House Of Cards
by tigertales
Summary: An MM/HG story about the lingering after effects of the great battle and the destruction of personalities that crumble with the fragility of a house of cards. Femslash. Don't like, don't read.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: I'm still trying to figure angst out so y'all be nice.**

**HOUSE OF CARDS**

**Chapter One**

Ginny Weasley, her dark red hair flying, dodged hexes and curses as she fought for her life. She crouched behind what was left of the Hufflepuff tables wincing as the gash in her left thigh reopened and began to leak blood again.

She'd been on the receiving end of a particularly nasty slicing hex from one Anton Dolahov when the Death Eater was suddenly blasted the length of the Great Hall. His body had hit with a wet slapping sound as it impacted the far wall.

The red head had seen Hermione Granger step into her line of vision. The beautiful brunette looked like an avenging valkyrie as she growled, "Payback's a bitch." Before firing off another hex at some unseen foe.

The Great Hall was awash in a sea of destruction, blood and death. The sounds of chaos filled her ears as she watched another Death Eater try to get a bead on Hermione. It seemed to the young witch that her friend was drawing a lot of fire in her direction. Raising her wand, she cast a bat bogey hex at the masked attacker.

The brown eyed witch watched as the evil wizard began swatting wildly at creatures darting about his head and dive bombing his eyes. Recognizing the hex, she shot Ginny a grateful nod and then turned and dashed off into more chaos.

Movement out of the corner of the red head's eye caused her to turn to the right. Just in time to see Bellatrix Lestrange mutter something that sounded like, "There's more than one way to stop blood traitors from multiplying... Testiculus Destructis!"

Ginny's blue eyes widened as her brother Charlie was hit by a purplish bolt of plasma that caused him to scream in agony grabbing his private area and falling to the floor in convulsions.

Horrified, the young woman watched as the mad witch focussed on another red head. This time it was Ron. Ginny fired a bolt of white energy at the evil Bellatrix just as the crazed women got off a shot. Ginny's hex caused the shot to hit her brother but not a full on blast like Charlie took.

She watched as Ron staggered, gently cradling the family jewels. He fell to his knees with a wide eyed look of surprised shock and pain. That was enough for the youngest Weasley, she began rapidly firing hexes at the evil Lestrange. The latter focussed her eyes on the only female child of Arthur and Molly.

"Another opportunity I see." She cackled raising her wand.

"Not my daughter you bitch!"

A bolt of white fire hit the Death Eater square in the chest. Angered, Bellatrix turned her attention to the mother of the blood traitors. Before she could actually get a shot off, the black haired witch was engulfed in the green fire of Molly's Avada Kedavra.

Bellatrix Lestrange was no more.

Ginny didn't have time to see if Ron was alright as another skirmish presented itself in the form of a hulking Death Eater headed her way.

* * *

2 months later...

The funerals had been solemnly attended and the dead put to rest. The survivors were now tasked with the business of living.

It hadn't been an easy undertaking and some were beginning to think that perhaps it would've been much easier to have died rather than endure night after night of horrific nightmares or struggling with the inevitable physical handicaps that war, be it muggle or magical ultimately wrought.

Dinner at the Burrow had become an awkward affair these days, with empty place settings screaming silently yet loud enough for all to hear and once again be reminded.

Fred's empty spot was like an open wound. Gaping and ugly, bleeding still. So much so that more often than not George would find somewhere else to be at meal times. The remaining twin had thrown himself fully into rebuilding the joke shop.

Ginny would sit quietly next to Harry. The youngest Weasley had taken to sharing a bed with the troubled young man whenever he stayed with the Weasleys. Neither Molly nor Arthur objected as it oftentimes allowed the young woman to get much needed rest.

She never had bad dreams when Harry was with her. The same was true for the boy-who-vanquished-the-dark-lord. When he held Ginny at night, his arms wrapped tightly around her warm, welcoming body... the nightmares faded and welcome sleep ensued. It wasn't about sex for them, it was about comfort. It was about survival.

Molly and Arthur each had their own demons that never left them alone. The agony of loosing a child. A loss so severe, so profound... A pain that was never truly recoverable.

Arthur would often times retreat to his shed looking for solace in his gadgets. However, most times he would be found sitting in a corner. His eyes glazed as he relived his experiences in the battle. A look of resignation on his face.

Molly threw herself into the housekeeping of the Burrow itself. Many times she could be found scrubbing the floors muggle-style until her hands and knees would bleed. Her once twinkling blue eyes now held the shadowed cast of unconcealed sorrow. Dark circles were blatant testament to her own sleepless nights.

Bill and Fleur still resided at Shell Cottage. Clinging to each other night after night as visions of death and destruction would appear in their dreams like a sickly perverted side show of horror.

Both young people had lost a great deal of weight. So much so that Fleur had been put on nutritional potions to augment her nearly non-existent diet. Bill had realized that the only time his wife would eat was when they went to his parents house. Their appearance at Molly's table was more of an attempt to keep Fleur alive rather than any sense of family.

He was currently looking into some form of therapy for both of them.

Percy had been joining his family at dinner too. His own guilt causing a physiological change in his body. He'd begun carrying a white, chalky tasting potion on his person for when the burn in his stomach arose.

His mother had taken to preparing a meal for him that was soft and slightly bland. It was the only thing that would stay on his stomach.

He'd also lost a good deal of weight as well, simply because he'd stopped eating. In his mind, that was the only way to avoid the unfortunate session he would endure in the loo after eating. It was the only way to avoid the broken blood vessels in his eyes, the sweating, the cramps and of course the blood that he would retch along with whatever else remained in his stomach.

Psychological torment was sometimes more intense than the physical.

Charlie spent most of his time back in Romania, at the dragon sanctuary. He would manage a weekend or two at the Burrow out of each month though.

The carefree Dragon Handler had become more introspective, erratic and moody. On his visits, he could be often found sitting in his mother's herb garden plucking the leaves off of various plants.

With a maniacal gleam in his dark blue eyes, he would then shred the plant material into tiny pieces that he would use to entice the gnomes out of their hiding places. If he managed to catch one, he would then methodically and with surgical precision slowly dismember the poor creature using his bare hands.

The tiny squeals of agony from the garden would bring Molly to the kitchen door to watch with horror filled eyes as her once kind and gentle son slowly morphed into a sadistic sociopath.

She understood some of his behaviour. Especially after he had confessed to what that strange spell Bellatrix Lestrange had hit him with had done to his body.

His testicles had been incinerated from the inside out.

There was no treatment. No cure.

Charlie Weasley would never father a child.

Molly had spoken to several healers at St. Mungo's regarding her son's slowly deteriorating sanity. The healers were at a loss and suggested that Charlie be kept under close observation.

They hadn't wanted to admit him to their psychiatric ward because there was no room. Every bed was filled with the survivors of Voldemort's quest for power. There was no room for Charlie. Their lack of knowledge or help had led Molly to seek out Hermione Granger.

The young woman was muggle-born. Sometimes a blessing, sometimes a curse.

This time, it was a blessing for after informing the young dark eyed woman of her concerns regarding her son, the brilliant mind that was Granger began researching P.T.S.D., or Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Hermione knew that extensive study had gone into the malady following the muggle wars in Vietnam, Iran, Iraq and Afghanistan.

Thanks to the internet, Hermione had found a plethora of information. Her studies had led her to the conclusion that sooner or later Charlie Weasley was going to snap. Her sense of failure grew to enormous proportions after informing Molly of her conclusion and seeing the defeated look bubbling in the older woman's once sparkling eyes. There was nothing she could do to help Charlie.

Just one more failure in a long line of them.

At least in Hermione's mind anyway.

The brilliant young witch who had fought so valiantly in the battle now thought of herself as less than nothing. The young woman would toss and turn in the night. Silently reliving every perceived failure in her life.

Her childhood issues with the neighbourhood children. Little hellions that would constantly torment her and call her names. Her parents quiet fear and disappointment that their daughter had been born... different, and the later anguish that tormented her soul after she had oblivated them.

Her nightmarish memories of episodes at Hogwarts. Of trolls, of botched potions, of Snape's hurtful comments, of Draco Malfoy's incessant taunts about her so called dirty blood, of three-headed dogs and devil's snare. Of battles in the ministry and the searing pain of Dolahov's curse. Of seeing her best friend's helpless horror at watching his Godfather die. Of seeing Katie Bell's body thrown this way and that, and finally of their time on the run.

Her hopeless fear that had literally engulfed her every time it was her turn to wear the horcrux cursed necklace, her anger at Ron for leaving them, her anger at Harry for dragging them blindly into it. Her crippling pain and guilt at not figuring things out faster.

Finally... her torture at Malfoy Manor.

Being enveloped in the blood boiling, soul melting agony of multiple Cruciatus curses.

Being beaten and ultimately scarred for life with that hideous word carved into her skin. A mark that would never fully heal. A wound that ached and itched so badly that the young woman's forearm was more often than not covered in bandages because she had scratched the wound to a bloody, meaty mess.

The most hurtful of Hermione's torments though was the disgusted look in Ronald's eyes when she had finally shown him what lay beneath the bandages. He had reacted in typical fashion by impulsively blurting, "Maybe you can just keep it covered up so no one can see your shame."

_Shame?_

Hermione was not ashamed of being muggle-born but apparently Ron was.

He'd come back to her later and tried to apologize but the damage was done.

A seed of doubt had been planted.

As for Ronald, he had mostly kept to himself. When Hermione was not around, he would lock himself in his bedroom, lay on his bed and masturbate.

Or at least try.

He found that he could get an erection and work himself to orgasm, but when he finally came, it would burn.

He realized that he too, had been hit with the same spell that Charlie had experienced and it terrified him. His dreams were filled with visions of would COULD be. That one day, out of nowhere, he would snap. He would destroy those people that he cared about the most. Those people that he loved.

Especially Hermione...

He admitted to himself that she was the one he wanted. She was the one he thought of when he wanked off. She was destined to share his life. To be his wife and the mother of his children.

Then he would realize that if he was indeed headed in the same direction as his brother, then there would be no children.

That thought bothered him slightly but not as much as the thought of loosing Hermione. He would keep her in his life. By his side.

Always...

He didn't seem to care whether or not she wanted children. In fact, he was fairly certain that she would want to continue with her schooling and that was fine with him for the time being.

She would focus on that. He did decide that she could continue to learn and still be his wife. They would be happy.

Little did he realize that the madness had already begun.

* * *

Meanwhile...

The Weasley family and the golden trio were not the only people in the wizarding world that had been feeling the delayed effects of the life changing horror that was Voldemort's Second Rising.

Rolanda Hooch paused in her task to wipe dusty sweat from her brow. She, Pomona Sprout and Filius Flitwick were working to shore up the foundation on the main entrance side of the badly damaged Hogwarts Castle.

Most of the debris had been levitated out of doors and separated into neat piles. Foundation stones in one pile, wall pieces in another, floor stones, cobblestones, tiles and stair treads in their own piles. This had been accomplished by Minerva McGonagall and Argus Filch.

As angry as the squib seemed to be most of the time, there wasn't a person alive who knew the structure of the castle as well as its dedicated caretaker.

The Flying Instructor pinched the bridge of her nose as she felt another headache coming on. Her action wasn't lost on her companions.

"Are you feeling alright?" Filius asked as he too wiped perspiration away from his eyes.

Hooch took a deep breath and replied, "We need a break."

It was true.

Immediately after the formalities of funerals, Minerva McGonagall had set her determined, unyielding will into seeing Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry rise from the ashes.

She had pushed herself and the remaining staff night and day like a demented task master.

Exhaustion was not an option.

Hooch shook her head and focussed her magic on another weak area of the foundation.

Filius had developed a spell that when cast would show all weak areas in varying colours. Pink, purple and red being the primary colours used. Pink being a weakness than can wait awhile, purple being a colour that needed attention soon and red being a colour that screamed danger.

The spike haired witch shot blue energy in the form of the repairing spell that the diminutive charms professor had also created at a dangerously red area near what remained of the main entrance.

Pomona Sprout shot a concerned look in the direction of Hooch. She looked down at Filius, her small dark eyes clearly showing her worry.

Both professors had witnessed the horrific air battle that Hooch had been involved in over the burning Quidditch pitch. The former star player had led six death eaters in a spectacular aerial duel that displayed to the world just how skilled Rolanda Hooch was on a broom.

And just how brave as well.

While performing incredible aerial acrobatics, the Quidditch coach had taken out three of her pursuers before taking the fight directly over the castle. After taking out two more, the last death eater had gotten off a lucky shot that set fire to the bristles of her Nimbus.

Even as flames began eating away at her robes, Rolanda continued to battle with fierce determination.

The end came when a well aimed shot from the ground, sliced her broom in two. The burning witch fell from the sky and through the badly damaged roof of the Transfiguration wing.

It was serendipity that Flitwick happened to fighting in that area and had witnessed the fireball that was Rolanda Hooch fall from the sky. He couldn't stop the impact of her breaking through the roof, but he did manage to stop her impact with the stone floor.

The severe head injury that she had suffered was now responsible for the almost debilitating headaches and reduced vision in her left eye. The burns on her back were slowly healing but itched like hell!

"Perhaps we could take a short break?" Pomona whispered eyeing Rolanda with concern. Her own injuries while distracting, had not been as severe as the Flying Instructor's had been...

Sprout had set bobby traps throughout the castle and its grounds for unsuspecting death eaters.

Devil's Snare had entrapped giants and trolls, Venomous Tentacula had taken unwary werewolves and death eaters by surprise. Its suction cups latching on and pumping lethal venom into its prey. Other plants such as magical ivy had caught foes in strangle holds. Entangling the enemy into a writhing mass of tendrils. Those that continued to struggle were slowly suffocated.

The plump witch had moved with surprising agility in and around her burning greenhouses fighting with a ferocity that belied her Hufflepuff origins. She had been struck with a glancing blow that had nearly severed her left arm below the elbow.

A healing brace and some quick spellwork by a bleeding Poppy Pomfrey had allowed Sprout to keep her arm. The knowledge that she would have to wear the brace for the rest of her life barely bothering the witch.

Filius glanced up a Pomona for a moment, then back to Hooch. His dark eyes projected tired concern as well.

The Charms Professor's eyes also reflected a glazed haunted expression. Dark circles and a gauntness about the small man attested to sleepless nights fraught with nightmares resulting in lack of appetite.

The tiny wizard had seen an enormous amount of action which surprisingly involved a good deal of hand to hand combat. The one particular engagement that haunted his dreams was when he'd found himself up against a single death eater in a corridor near where Hooch had come to a crashing finale...

He'd turned a corner and found a masked wizard joyfully using a slicing hex to torture one of his Ravenclaws. The small man had roared his outrage, distracting the evil wizard and allowing the student, Justin Finch-Fletchley to escape clutching his severed right hand to his chest.

The death eater then turned his attention to Flitwick. He had managed to grasp the tiny man in a powerful bear hug and was in the process of squeezing him to death when Filius reacted.

Instinctively using his goblin heritage, he'd reached up and had fastened his razor sharp teeth on the man's throat at his jugular. Biting down, Flitwick's teeth sank through the flesh and severed the vein causing a gush of blood to spill from the now screaming death eater.

The man had flung off his mask and to Filius' horror had revealed himself to be Herman Oxley. Ravenclaw Head Boy from ten years ago. The man, who had been one of Flitwick's favorites, fell to his knees and bled out on the floor at the tiny man's feet.

The small man nodded at Pomona and said, "I think a break would do us all some good."

In another part of the castle...

Sybil Trelawney watched from her tower as Minerva McGonagall set ablaze yet another decaying giant's body. The stench of burning flesh brought tears to eyes that had seen so much death and destruction.

She'd been watching McGonagall with growing trepidation...

The Deputy Headmistress had been stalking the grounds all morning; cleaning up bodies left over from the battle. Bodies that no one had claimed. Mostly magical creatures, but occasionally she would discover a human.

The rate of decay had made identifying these people nearly impossible. In some cases, she could tell by the clothing that remained whether the person had been on the side of the light or a member of Voldemort's forces. If it turned out to be the latter, a vindictive gleam would appear in angry green eyes and soon the body would be incinerated.

The grounds of the castle were liberally dotted in blackened scorch marks from McGonagall's activities.

Sybil blinked away tears that had formed as she watched as the once proud and noble Gryffindor had been reduced to the angry, brittle harpy that roamed the grounds with such vengeful glee.

Even in animagus form, the once sleek silver tabby had transformed into a hissing, spitting creature that padded about the castle with fur standing on end and a switching tail bristled like a bottle brush.

Minerva had worked her weary staff with a forcefulness that frightened the Divination teacher. Pushing them to near collapse in her quest to ready the school to reopen as quickly as possible.

Something had to be done...

Minerva had to be made to see what she was doing to those around her and what she was doing to herself.

The tall witch had lost so much weight that she now looked like a walking skeleton. Her once elegant cheekbones had become so pronounced that the rest of her face appeared sunken in, giving her an almost skull-like appearance. Gleaming, intelligent green eyes had been transformed into piercing chips of malachite set into darkened hallows. Her brow was constantly knit into a forbidding frown.

Anger radiated off of the Scottish witch in waves that caused the others to figuratively and sometimes actually tip-toe around her.

Wiping away a tear, Sybil glanced back into her office. On her desk was a dusty bottle of sherry. Untouched since before the battle. She had not taken a single drink. Shaking her head grimly, she gazed at the rest of the room.

The structure was mostly untouched. The battle never really made it to her area. The only exception being in one corner where Harry Potter and Voldemort had crashed through whilst locked in a deadly embrace.

The Divination Professor watched as a ray of sunlight shined down through the hole Potter and the dark lord had made. A small smile lifted her thin lips as she walked over to stand in that warm spot. Raising her eyes to the sky, she whispered, "Please help us."

* * *

_-to be continued._

**AN: I'm not good at writing more than one story at a time. However, I have been... challenged to try. So that's the plan. Be nice y'all.**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Wow! Thanks for all the kind words. Y'all are awesome sauce!**

**HOUSE OF CARDS**

**Chapter Two**

_**2 weeks later...**_

Hermione stood on what remained of the great causeway and stared up at what had once upon a time, been her haven. Behind her, she heard a pair of trainers scuffing on the loose pebbles and broken bits of masonry that littered the stone walkway that led to the castle.

The night of the battle, Hermione remembered seeing stone soldiers, summoned by the Deputy Headmistress, standing at attention; preparing to protect the school on this very spot...

Just as Minerva McGonagall had ordered.

At her shoulder, she could see Harry out of the corner of her eye. The young man appeared dumbstruck as he stared up at the castle. His green eyes clouded with tears that he refused to allow to fall.

It was easy to see why...

In the morning light, the once great and mighty castle appeared almost forsaken in its appearance.

The great English oak doors dangled drunkenly of off torn and melted hinges. Towers and spires that had once gleamed almost silver in the sunlight were now cast in darkened shades of grey.

Blast and scorch marks dotted nearly every surface. Crumbled walls and passageways could be seen through great rents in the face of the building. Desks, furniture, books and other flotsam hung out of these gashes like entrails. Spilling out of holes and lying on the ground below in large piles.

Occasionally another stain could be seen. Dark reddish brown, almost black splatters indicated a spot where someone or some... thing had died. Another chilling reminder of what had happened here.

The young witch could see several people in the distance. They appeared to be working all along the base of the great structure.

"I guess you need to make sure the building won't crumble down on your head before you actually start on the work of rebuilding."

Hermione nodded at her friend's comment. She looked behind her at the people who had accompanied them. Arthur and Ginny Weasley, Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood. All veterans of the war, all here to help rebuild.

"Molly wanted to come you know." Arthur muttered, his blue eyes fixated on the castle. Sighing, he added, "She stayed behind to keep an eye on Charlie."

Hermione had helped Arthur and Molly find a healer to look after their son. She had used her computer to search the web for a doctor who specialized in war trauma. She had found him after several hours of researching. The best thing was, that to her surprise, the man was a wizard!

The American muggleborn doctor was one of the few healers in the wizarding world that combined muggle medicine with magic and apparently had found a way to help their son.

Unfortunately part of his treatment was sedation. Not so much to keep him unconscious, but just enough to keep him calm.

Hermione frowned grimly as she thought of Charlie, _'Sedation? More like turning the poor man into a drugged out zombie.' _

At the moment, that was the best they could hope for until the healer could research further.

At least he didn't sit in the garden torturing gnomes anymore.

Luna chose that moment to speak up, "I never realized just how beautiful the castle was. Seeing it now breaks my heart."

Neville reached over and pulled the dreamy blonde into a comforting embrace. Of all of them, Longbottom seemed to have finally found his confidence.

The tall man's rugged looks revealed the scars from the battles he'd fought. Particularly a deeply scarred over gash that ran from the corner of his left eye and jaggedly over his cheekbone to finally rest at the left side of his mouth. It gave him an almost foreboding appearance.

Like a mighty warrior the young wizard had fought with a thirst for justice. For not just the order but for his parents as well. Swinging the sword of Gryffindor in one hand and waving his wand in the other, he'd vanquished all who stood before him.

All the while wearing the torn argyle sweater that had been a gift from his gran.

He looked fearsome. He was imposing, both before the actual battle and during. It was his act of killing Nagini with the sword that had saved the day.

Literally.

Ron and Hermione were well on their way to becoming a meal for the giant snake when Neville had appeared out of nowhere and decapitated the last horcrux, giving Harry the opportunity to once and for all end Voldemort's evil reign of terror.

Hermione's thoughts turned to her boyfriend. She'd asked him if he was coming with her to assist in rebuilding. He'd snarled at her saying, "I'm not going anywhere near that bloody castle." He'd narrowed his eyes and added, "And neither are you."

The row they had after that statement could be heard in the next county.

Needless to say, Hermione was here to help and she didn't care one fig where her stubborn boyfriend was.

* * *

Meanwhile deep inside the castle...

Rolanda Hooch grimaced as her head felt like it was going to explode. She focussed her magic on yet another weakened section of the foundation and watched as the stone slowly reformed and strengthened.

Barely a week ago the Board of Governors had voted Minerva McGonagall as the new Headmistress. Whilst happy for her friend, the spike haired witch couldn't help but groan in resignation as to what that actually meant.

Minerva would push them harder.

The new Headmistress had thrown herself into her new role with a vengeance. Up at four in the morning patrolling what was left of the castle.

Making a mental list of what needed to be done that day. She would send an elf out at five to rouse the weary staff and provide breakfast. At six the tasks would be handed out. Every member would receive three things that were to be accomplished by the end of that day. If not, then there would be hell to pay.

Filius had taken it upon himself to divide the tasks up between the staff. Giving appropriate jobs to the right witch or wizard. Whereas Minerva would dole them out indiscriminately, Filius matched them to people who could do the job in a timely and more efficient manner.

Hooch had been working with Filius and Pomona for weeks now. They'd discovered a dynamic that worked for them and were able to finish their own tasks long before the others. When that happened, they would split up and seek out associates who had fallen behind.

Rolanda had taken up the job of helping out Trelawney. It seemed to her that Minerva assigned nearly impossible tasks for the Divination professor. The latter accepting her assignments without a word of complaint. The gleeful gleam in Minerva's piercing green eyes would dim a bit at Sybil's actions and Hooch felt a certain pride in the witch's manner.

As the last stone cooled, Hooch turned to Flitwick saying, "I think I'll go check on Sybil."

Smiling in understanding, the tiny man moved to another section of stone and began to work anew.

* * *

The small group worked their way across the causeway being very careful not to trip over leftover stone and debris. An eerie echoing cry sounded from above and the group paused to look up.

"Whut is that?" Neville asked as a large winged creature flew over them and off towards the forest.

"Thestral." Harry answered watching as understanding dawned on Hermione's face.

Only people who had seen death could actually see a Thestral.

"Never in my life have I ever wished I could NOT see something..." The dark eyed witch whispered as a single tear slid down her cheek.

* * *

"You know Sybil, a first year could do better work than this..."

Hooch paused on the stairs as a familiar brogue drifted down to her ears. Apparently Minerva had found the frizzy haired witch before she had. Picking up her pace, she broke into a tired jog.

"Really, can't you speed this up?"

"Leave her alone Minerva."

The Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was looming over a crouching Trelawney. Seeing this caused the Flying Instructor to angrily stalk into the room growling, "Pick on someone else for a change."

Minerva straightened herself to her full height and stared at Hooch through emerald eyes turned to slits in her anger. If looks could kill, then Hooch would've dissolved on the spot.

"I will thank you to mind your own business Madam Hooch."

Growling, the spike haired woman stepped closer to the taller witch, "And I'll thank you to stop handing out impossible tasks to people you KNOW cannot perform them. You know Sybil is not an engineer. She's a Divination teacher. She's good at projections and seeing things in the right order. Give her that to do!"

A growl of warning sounded from deep in Minerva's throat.

Hooch's yellow eyes narrowed as she spat, "Don't go there Minerva."

At this point Sybil had risen to her feet, "Do not worry for me Rolanda. It is Minerva who needs your help."

Enraged, Minerva whirled around to face Sybil, "What exactly are you implying?" Her hand began inching towards where her ebony wand was waiting.

Seeing this Hooch exclaimed, "What do you think you're doing?"

Minerva paused for a moment and stepped back. Turning to Hooch, she stated, "Not one fecking thing." With that, she spun on her heel and stalked off.

Hooch huffed angrily and shot her friends back the middle finger. This action caused a quiet giggle to escape from Trelawney. Thick smoky lenses focussed on the miffed witch, "Do not antagonize her. She is dangerous."

Nodding vigorously, Hooch replied, "Yes. I know! That's what happens when you have a broomstick stuck up your arse!" The angry witch patted Trelawney on the shoulder and stalked after her so-called friend.

* * *

"Minerva!... Minerva! Dammit slow down!"

The Headmistress stopped and stood rigidly as the sound of Hooch's boots drew closer.

"Jeeze woman you take long strides." The spike haired witch huffed as she stopped behind her friend. Drawing great gasps of breath, the yellow eyed witch stared at Minerva's back.

"Aren't you going to turn around?"

There was a growl sounding from Minerva, then a hoarse reply, "If I turn, I fear I shall hex you."

Gritting her teeth, Hooch rumbled back, "Not if I hex you first."

Yowling in rage, the taller woman whirled around to find Hooch's wand pointing right between her eyes...

* * *

The group of people had split up in search of someone to help.

Neville had sought out Pomona Sprout to possibly see what could be salvaged from the greenhouses. Luna had found Filius and was now helping him shore up foundations. Harry and Arthur were helping Hagrid and Argus Filch with separating salvageable stone from rubbish.

Hermione had gone to find Minerva McGonagall...

* * *

"You have been roaring about this castle like some kind of enraged banshee Minerva! Taking your anger and frustration out on the wrong bloody people!"

Hermione paused as familiar voices drifted down the stairwell.

"You do not know what you are talking about." Came an angry retort in a thick Scottish brogue.

The young witch took a few more steps.

"Oh yeah? What do you call what you just did to Sybil? That certainly wasn't helping her finish her task. That was harassment. You never liked her and now that you're queen of the castle, you are trying your damnedest to get her gone!"

Hermione could hear the sounds of feet walking away, so she hurriedly took a few more steps. Only stopping when she heard Hooch exclaim, "Oh that's right, just walk away from the truth."

The young witch reached the top of the stairs to see Minerva begin to turn while drawing her wand. Faster than she thought possible, Hermione watched as Hooch landed a right cross to Minerva's chin. The older witch falling with an undignified thud on her backside.

Minerva's ebony wand clattered to the floor, rolling straight into the outstretched hand of Hermione Granger.

Both older witches froze at seeing the younger stare for a moment at the wand, then take that last step up to their floor.

The young witch clasped the ebony wand of her mentor in nimble fingers staring at it for a long moment, and then dark eyes slowly rose to focus on the two older women. Chocolate orbs that had seen far too much death and destruction for one so young caused a gasp from McGonagall.

Haunted eyes. Eyes that spoke of Hermione's own personal hell.

Clearing her throat, Hooch muttered, "I'll be going now."

As she strode past the young witch, the spike haired woman nodded. Yellow eyes pierced mocha for just a moment. Trying to relay a message in a single glance.

_Be careful._

Hooch had no doubts that if Minerva started any shite that Hermione would blast her into next year. She'd seen the young witch in action and Hermione Granger was definitely a woman who could take care of herself.

Minerva was in for a rude awakening.

Hermione returned the other witch's nod with one of her own and watched as Hooch walked down the steps. Turning back, she saw that Minerva was trying to get to her feet.

"Here, let me help you." The young woman spoke as she moved to grasp the older witch by her bicep.

"I am not an invalid!" McGonagall growled, jerking her arm out of the younger woman's grasp.

Hermione's dark eyes narrowed as a surge of anger threatened to erupt. Taking a deep breath, she stated, "I never said you were."

Emerald eyes peered into chocolate depths; seeing the restrained anger that Hermione was barely holding in. Growling, Minerva held out her hand, "My wand please."

Slowly the ebony length of wood was handed back to its owner.

"I am sorry you had to see that." Minerva mumbled as she moved over to a window. Surprisingly this window was still intact. Long fingers reached out to gently trace patterns on the centuries old leaded glass.

Hermione could see the way those elegant fingers trembled. She could see the stiff set of slim shoulders held rigid with tension. The way that a body, pushed beyond all endurance, struggled to continue to function on will power alone.

The young woman stared at a witch in whom she had held in the highest regard and realized something. Something that apparently everyone else had forgotten as they'd placed her up on that unreachable pedestal.

She realized that before Minerva McGonagall was Headmistress of the school, before she was the leader of the Order... before everything else. She was a woman...

A human being with all the failings, fragilities and follies that made her such. She made mistakes, she didn't have all the answers. She wasn't some super hero. She was a human being with feet of clay.

Just like everyone else.

A look of complete understanding graced the troubled features of Hermione Granger as she conjured a wet cloth. Quietly stepping to her mentor's side, she gently reached up to cup a stubbornly jutting chin, "Here. You're bleeding."

Surprised, the older witch turned. Feeling the gentle touch of the younger woman calmed the animagus somewhat. She stood stock still as Hermione carefully dabbed the blood away from her split lip.

A twinkle appeared in dark eyes as Hermione whispered, "You know if you two are going to resort to fisticuffs, I might as well start selling tickets. Do you think Rosmerta would let me use her back room?"

Stunned green orbs blinked for a moment as they focussed on the mischief brewing in the eyes of her student. Then Minerva McGonagall did something that she hadn't done in a long time.

She smiled.

* * *

It was two weeks later that found Hermione sitting on the stairs at the Burrow.

Harry, Ron, Ginny and herself had received letters from the ministry offering the opportunity to either take up employment, take an accelerated course by correspondence offered to sixth and seventh years concluding with NEWTS, take the NEWTS and move on to university or wait until next autumn for Hogwarts to reopen.

Harry and Ronald decided to take up the offer of employment by joining the auror program. Ginny decided to take the accelerated correspondence course and Hermione planned to go ahead and take her NEWTS. She wanted to go to university and further her studies.

She and Ron had talked. He had told her that he wanted to have a go at establishing a career first before they settled down. Hermione was fine with that as she wanted to continue her schooling. The young witch had been completely dumbfounded by Ronald's show of mature thinking.

He never told her or anyone else that he had also been on the receiving end of that nasty hex. He didn't tell her that he was having problems as a result of Bellatrix's hex. He'd told her that he was willing to wait until they got married before they had sex.

Hermione had thought that was so sweet and honourable.

Far from it...

Ron just didn't want to have to endure the pain that came from his ejaculation. He hadn't sought out medical help. Feeling more than embarrassed about the whole situation. He also wanted to see what happened to Charlie.

His older brother had good days and bad days.

On the good days, when he got his medication dosage right, Charlie Weasley was almost his normal self. Joking and teasing, helping Molly with her chores.

On bad days, he would sit in his room staring at the walls or he would methodically slice shallow cuts into his naked thighs. Watching the blood bead up and trickle down his legs to puddle on the floor.

He only did this when he knew no one was around, or when everyone was downstairs. When he was through, he would scourigify himself and the floor and no one would be the wiser.

That was until Harry had walked in on him once while he'd been doing this. Needless to say, the stunning hex that Molly had hit her son with had left him quite stiff and sore.

He'd managed to hide his knife under the floor boards as his mother had taken to confiscating all the sharp objects in the house.

Even Harry's broken piece of mirror.

Hermione's eyes gazed upwards as a moan softly sounded from upstairs. She looked into the kitchen to see Molly and Arthur look up and into her eyes.

She knew that sound...

As did everyone else in the kitchen.

"He's doing it again." Ginny whispered as tears trickled down her cheeks.

Molly shook her head, she began pacing. Running her hands through her thick auburn mane as she began ranting, "I don't know how much more of this I can take!"

Arthur pulled his wife into a comforting embrace as she suddenly burst into tears.

"I don't know how to help my son!"

* * *

In the end, it was Hermione who once again provided the solution. Yes it was true that St Mungo's was full but there were dozens of smaller institutions that were not.

Muggle institutions.

Places that had more experience in dealing with mental illness than any wizarding establishment.

Luckily the muggleborn doctor stepped into the picture after receiving an e-mail from the witch. He had recommended the Weasley family to a friend of his. Another doctor, British born who had experience dealing with P.T.S.D. from his time in the British army.

This doctor also understood about magic as his nephew was a wizard.

Doctor Charles Thomas.

Uncle of Dean Thomas.

The first thing that Dr. Thomas did after evaluating Charlie was to have Molly put a shunt on his magic. This would allow him to feel it, but not use it. The second thing he did was to admit him to the Billings House.

A long term care facility for patients suffering from various mental maladies.

Seeing his brother go to a mental hospital caused Ronald to decide then and there that no one was going to do that to him because no one would ever find out.

_Ever!_

* * *

_**3 months later...**_

"Come on 'Mione! Let's go out! You've been cooped up in here for hours."

Hermione looked up from her books and into the eyes of her fiancee, "Ron, I have to study."

Blue eyes darkened for a moment, then cleared, "But you know this stuff."

The young witch peered at the earnest face of the man she had promised to marry and sighed, "Fine. Where are we going again?"

Grinning, Ron reached for her hand, "Harry and Ginny are meeting us at the Leaky Cauldron for dinner."

At the sound of her friend's names, Hermione immediately brightened, "Well alright then."

Ron stopped and turned around to face her. A thunderous look clouding his face, "Would it have made a difference if it was just us?"

Hermione stopped.

Ronald's eyes were darkened pits of cobalt blue and his grip on her hand was almost painful.

Choosing her words very carefully, she replied, "No. It's just nice to see them. I don't get out much. Remember?" She tried to lighten the mood a bit with the tone of her voice.

Apparently it worked as Ron's face was once again happily lit, "Well alright then... let's go."

Hermione mused that lately, Ron's moods seemed to swing back and forth. Almost like the switch for an electric light.

Switch on.

Switch off.

Switch on.

Switch off.

She wondered if it was just stress.

Or something more.

* * *

_-to be continued_

**AN: I realize that the characters in this story may seem a little off but I ask you this... put yourself in their positions. Would you not react differently having experienced the horror that these people have? Would that not change you somewhat? **

**ANN: Special thanks to Jessica for all her insight regarding P.T.S.D. and its symptoms. You rock chicka!**


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: I have a question. How can Minerva be out of character when JKR barely gave her a personality? Wikipedia has a small paragraph, and although Maggie Smith's portrayal was great she didn't have enough screen time to truly develop the character. The only venue that has explored Minerva's character and personality in any detail, is fanfic. Each writer's interpretation puts a different spin on it. So again I ask, how can she be considered OOC?**

**HOUSE OF CARDS**

**Chapter Three**

A month later found Hermione staring morosely out of the window of the room she shared with Ginny when she was at the Burrow. She had come home with the wonderful news that her accelerated study plan was actually paying off. She was at the top of her class in every subject.

She thought that her friends and adopted family would be excited, instead Molly had patted her on the head and whispered a sad, "Good job sweetie."

It wasn't until a bit later that the brown eyed young witch finally figured out what was going on. It was when the household erupted into the sound of raised voices. That in itself wouldn't be much cause for consternation as the Burrow was always a hotbed of noise and distraction.

It was the KIND of noise being made.

Loud, angry shouting.

Between Arthur and Molly.

That had never happened in front of the children.

Ever.

"I told you to clear out all of the sharp objects!" Molly had screamed furiously.

There was a pause, then Arthur replied in a quiet voice, "I did Molls. Everything in the house was locked up. I never thought he would break into my workshop and take something from my collection."

Arthur's "collection" consisted of all manner of muggle gadgets, odds, ends and do-dads. It also included several muggle style *Stanley knives.

Charlie had taken one and somehow smuggled it into Billings House. No one was quite sure how, although Hermione suspected that he had slid it up his arse.

The caretaking staff at the medical institution had found Charlie happily carving the number seven up and down his forearms. Molly and Arthur had been notified and of course had immediately left to go see about their son.

When they got there, they found that their son had been tied to his bed in some kind of restraining device. His wrists were immobilized at his waist. The young man was screaming his head off about some kind of purple haze that belonged to Bellatrix Lestrange.

Molly had demanded that her son be released. The red haired woman had begun ranting about the barbaric treatment that her child was enduring. It wasn't until Doctor Thomas explained about the knife and what had happened after it was removed and Charlie had been bandaged.

Horrified, Molly listened as the doctor told her that Charlie had then proceeded to remove his bandages and write the number seven all over the walls using his own blood.

No one was quite sure what the significance of that particular number meant to the young man although George was sure that the digit equalled the number of Death Eaters Charlie had killed the night of the final battle.

Not stunned.

Killed.

Hermione felt a tear trickle down her face as she listened to Arthur and Molly rant back and forth.

"It's your fault Arthur!"

"I didn't know he would do that!"

"You should have!"

"How? I don't even know my son anymore!"

Arthur's retort was tinged with defeat. Hermione could hear it in his voice. Then she heard the slamming of a door as the faint sound of sobbing drifted up the stairwell.

Feeling a hand on her shoulder, the young witch turned to find Harry's intense green eyes staring into her own dark orbs.

"You heard that?" He asked running a hand through his already mussed black hair.

Hermione sighed, "I'm sure the Lovegoods heard that over the next hill."

Harry sat down beside her and muttered, "I thought that once Voldemort was killed then everything would be great."

Hermione shook her head, "That was easy Harry. Dealing with the aftermath is the hard part."

She felt an arm wrap around her shoulder, "You gonna be o.k.?"

Pulling up the sleeve of her jumper, she looked down at the words carved into her forearm. After a long pause, she replied, "I don't know."

* * *

The next day found Hermione and Harry back at Hogwarts.

Although classes had resumed, there were still large areas of the castle that had been deemed unsafe. The two friends had been dropping by when they could, to assist in any way. Harry would find Flitwick and be assigned an area to work in.

Hermione never bothered to check in with the Deputy.

She simply sought out the Headmistress.

On this particular day, she had found McGonagall on the Astonomy Tower. The elder witch was standing stiff as a board as she stared at the spot where Albus Dumbledore had been knocked off of the tower by Snape's Avada Kedavra.

"Professor?"

The tall witch whirled around into a fighting crouch. Her ebony wand drawn and ready. Eyes narrowed to cat-like slits, McGonagall hissed a warning.

Startled, Hermione's eyes widened in fear.

Recognition caused darkened emerald eyes to lighten slightly. Standing, the Headmistress growled, "Do not ever walk up behind me like that again." She took a deep, trembling breath and added softly, "I might have killed you."

Nodding the young witch took a cautious step forward, "I wanted to know what you would like me to do today?"

The stiff set of Minerva's shoulders sagged slightly as she turned back around to once again stare at the spot where Albus died, "I don't know."

Hermione knew the significance of this particular place as Harry had shared his memories of that night with her. Taking another step, she whispered, "You were very close to Dumbledore."

A snort sounded from her mentor, "Apparently not close enough."

Minerva knew Hermione well enough to know that there was an un-asked question brewing within her brilliant mind. Turning, she focussed on the young woman's inquisitive brown eyes and added, "I was never privy to his plans regarding Harry."

Hermione nodded. That was another thing Harry had shared with her. The memories that Snape had shared with him.

"He probably thought that if you knew the truth, you would try and stop him."

Nostrils flared as the older woman rumbled, "Yes, I would have. No one deserves that fate."

Hermione frowned, "But it was the only way to defeat Voldemort."

Minerva shook her head, "I do not believe that. Albus always enjoyed wielding his power. He loved manipulating situations and people. I will never forgive him for not trusting me enough to share more information."

Hermione watched as the tall woman blinked several times. Almost as if realizing something. McGonagall froze the young woman in a piercing emerald stare.

"Forgive me Miss Granger. I should not have spoken in such a manner."

Hermione watched as the older witch turned to stride towards the door. As she passed, the young woman reached out and placed her hand upon her mentor's shoulder.

This movement stopped McGonagall in her tracks. It had been months since someone had touched her.

"For what it's worth, if you need someone to talk to... I'm here."

There was a momentary softening in the hard gaze that stared into the young woman's soul, "Thank you... Hermione." Shaking her head, the Headmistress stated, "Come. We have work to do."

With that, the tall witch strode towards the door once more. This time, the younger witch trotted after her.

* * *

The two women eventually made their way to the bridge that Seamus Finnegan had blown up the night of the battle. Little had been done to repair it. A magical barrier had been erected to keep curious students away.

Hermione cautiously peered over the side. She was checking the debris field for anything that could be salvageable. Feeling strong fingers wrap around her bicep, she heard, "Be careful."

Nodding, the brunette stated, "I don't see any bodies."

"You will not. I accio'd them up and deposited them in the courtyard for claiming. Not surprisingly only about a dozen bodies were claimed by families." Minerva frowned as she added, "We did not have enough room for Voldemort's followers in the Hogwarts cemetery so I cremated them. Their ashes were scattered to the winds."

Hermione grimaced at hearing the gruesome story.

Seeing her companion's expression, the Headmistress took on a defensive stance, "What would you have done Miss Granger?"

The sad, soulful chocolate gaze that Minerva found herself trapped in almost drove her to tears. It was the softly whispered, "I don't know," that did.

* * *

Those three words proved to be the standing order of the day as time passed.

Ron had convinced Hermione that they should get married sooner rather than later.

The young woman had been puzzled by his turn around in thinking. Although acting erratically had always been a Ron Weasley trademark, this was just odd.

Almost as odd as the hobby her fiancee had taken up. The young wizard had found a cache of muggle playing cards in his father's workshop and had taken to building structures with them. Held together with magic, some of them had been quite striking.

It was his recreation of Hogwarts castle that had been the most amazing. Almost perfect in every way, the entire family had ooh'd and ahhh'd at the structure. Then they had all stood there shell shocked as Ron had waved his wand saying, "Look. It's the night of the battle!"

In that moment, the whole construct had tumbled to the table into a mass of disorganized playing cards.

Hermione had been struck by the fragility of it all. The metaphor that clearly was playing out...

Nothing of importance can stand without a firm foundation. Otherwise it just comes tumbling down like a house of cards.

* * *

Not long after that incident, on a freezing day in October shortly before Halloween, two thirds of the Golden Trio were married in a small ceremony presided over by Kingsley Shacklebolt.

Duly appointed Minister of Magic.

The young bride was stunning. Glowing with a radiant beauty that few had ever realized she was capable of. She had asked Harry to give her away as her father and mother were still in Australia blissfully unaware of the happenings in magical Britain.

The Weasley family, Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, and most of the staff of Hogwarts had been present. Seamus Finnegan stood as Ron's best man and Ginny was Hermione's maid of honour.

It should've been the happiest day in Hermione's life.

Should've been...

Somehow the joy of the day never made to her eyes. Her chocolate brown gaze appeared glazed over, hiding what lay beneath the surface. Only two people had managed a glimpse at the swirling uncertainty that truly lay in the young witch's dark orbs.

Harry Potter had come to know his friend in almost every way. She was closer to him than a sister. She was the one he went running to when he needed the answer to some obscure question. She was the one who understood the clinginess that had consumed him in the aftermath of the battle.

He was the one who understood Hermione's almost psychotic fear of failure. A fear that he believed was the real reason that she had agreed to marry Ron. He knew that Ron had become aware of this as well and was almost positive that the red head had used her fear to manipulate her into agreeing to marry him sooner rather than later...

The other person to notice Hermione's act was Minerva McGonagall. The older witch had recognized Hermione's obsessive need to succeed from her days as her student. The Headmistress had an epiphany whilst sitting in her chair watching the ceremony.

The way that the young witch had thrown herself into the tasks of helping to rebuild Hogwarts, the way that she had attacked her studies; completing two years worth of lessons in just one, the way that she tried so hard to assist Molly and Arthur with their troubles...

Minerva realized that deep down, Hermione did not consider herself worthy and therefore was pushing herself almost beyond endurance to prove that she did belong.

The mark carved into her forearm certainly did not help matters either.

A growl sounded from the elder witch as she thought of the torturous horror visited upon the young woman by Bellatrix Lestrange.

Hooch, who was sitting next to the Headmistress promptly elbowed Minerva hissing, "Show some respect!"

Frowning, the Headmistress watched her former student recite her vows. She knew that Hermione would use everything in her power to make her marriage to Ronald succeed. Again her almost neurotic fear of failure was at work. Her need to prove herself worthy once again reared its ugly head.

This time in a more permanent, binding way.

* * *

It was a sombre Headmistress that entered the newly refurbished English oak doors of the castle. Her staff followed several paces behind.

They had been concerned at their leader's almost fanatical silence as they had watched as the newly wed Ronald and Hermione Weasley had danced at the wedding reception.

Minerva had stood behind several people staring the young couple. Her arms crossed, a fearsome glitter shining in darkened green eyes, the older woman had been still as a statue.

Hooch and Flitwick had been watching the Headmistress as she watched Ron and Hermione.

It was very instructive.

"Do you think she's throwing away a promising career?" Pomona had asked as they followed Minerva into the castle.

Hooch snorted, "I heard Molly Weasley saying that Ronald wanted to start a family right away."

Flitwick frowned, "And turn Hermione into what?... A housewife?" He sighed and added, "Such a waste."

"Indeed."

It was the first thing Minerva had said all evening and the little group came to an abrupt halt. They watched as the Headmistress stalked away, deeper into the castle.

Hooch watched her friend walk away. The wheels had begun to turn and an interesting scenario was beginning to take shape in her mind.

It was Poppy however that spoke it out loud, "You know, the only person Minerva has been able to talk to since the battle has been Hermione."

Surprised sounds erupted from the little group.

"Not much talk though. Just snippets." Flitwick stated.

Poppy nodded, her tired blue eyes focussed on the little man, "But enough for Minerva to begin to deal with the immense anger that has been eating away at her."

Flitwick stroked his chin thoughtfully, "She IS a veteran of three wizarding wars."

Poppy nodded, "Why do you think she has always been so reserved? So controlled?"

Hooch scratched her spiked head, "She has a shit wicked temper."

"That she has always kept tightly controlled." Poppy interjected.

A look of understanding flashed onto Flitwick's face, "But this time it was different. This time all of her control was taken away from her. She was forced to stand by while Severus and the Carrows did their worst."

Poppy nodded sagely, "Every Gryffindor instinct within her encouraged her to fight back. But if she did, then a student would suffer. Imagine what the warrior in her must've felt... what is must've done to her."

Hooch sighed as a tear slipped from her yellow eye, "To not be able to protect that which she had sworn to do."

Flickwick shook his head, "To have all of her control ripped away." He remembered seeing Minerva in battle in the Great Hall. The older witch had almost been in a frenzy as her magic ripped through Death Eater after Death Eater. Her wand had moved faster than the eye could see as she had plowed through the defensive lines that Voldemort's followers had set up.

Minerva's rage, once unleashed was truly terrifying.

"But what does all this have to do with Hermione?" Pomona asked jumping back into the conversation.

Poppy answered with a knowing expression, "Hermione has had her confidence taken away from her. From what I understand, she was tortured at Malfoy Manor by Bellatrix Lestrange. She was exposed to numerous Cruciatus curses as well as being disfigured by a magical knife."

Eyes widened at a revelation that few of them had been aware of.

Hooch began putting the pieces together, "So her confidence was taken away, much like Minerva's control was taken. Not in the same way but similar."

Poppy nodded, "Hermione has been left feeling unworthy. Needing to prove herself over and over and with a desperate fear of failure." She gazed in the direction that the Headmistress had taken, "I believe that Minerva recognizes that."

"Hermione was her favourite you know."

Everyone smiled at Flitwick's words.

Poppy nodded with a small smile, "And that's why she is so upset at the way Hermione's marriage to Ronald played out."

Flitwick was putting pieces together in much the same way that Hooch was, "So Hermione married him to prove that she is not a failure?"

Poppy shook her head, "I have no doubt that the she cares for Ronald. I'm not sure about loving him the way a wife is supposed to love her husband though." The medi-witch frowned as she thought of something else, "I'm convinced that Ronald is aware of Hermione's state of mind as well. I think he may have used that to convince her to marry him."

Hooch snorted, "That's rather Slytherin of him. Are you sure he was sorted correctly?"

* * *

High above, on the landing above the main entrance, Minerva McGonagall stood with fists clenched so tightly that her nails had drawn blood. Her animagus had allowed her human self to have the advantage of cat-like hearing and she had heard every word that her staff had spoken.

Every word had been true and that realization had enraged her even more.

They were right. Hermione was being manipulated. Just like Dumbledore had done to her.

Sharp heels clicked on the stones as she made her way to her office and to a confrontation that had been a long time in coming.

* * *

The door to the Head of Hogwarts office creaked open and the portraits had looked up to see who was entering. When painted eyes beheld the current Headmistress acknowledging nods were put forth.

The portrait of Albus Dumbledore watched with sad oil painted eyes as his friend headed straight for the liquor cabinet.

That activity had been happening with greater frequency as time wore on.

He watched as a bottle of firewhiskey was retrieved, the cap removed and brought to thin lips. A long, creamy throat bobbed with each swallow of the vitriolic substance.

"You seem to be doing that a lot these days Tabby."

The tall witch finished her swallow.

She had gulped down more than half of the bottle.

Turning, she abruptly flung the bottle straight at Dumbledore's portrait. The bottle shattered in an explosion of glass. Brown liquor leaked down the face of the painting, over the gilded frame and down the wall.

"You do not get to speak to me." Came the low growl from the Headmistress.

The ebony haired witch snatched her trademark hat from her head and tossed it towards the hat rack in the corner. Never mind that the item missed and landed on the floor.

Dumbledore peered out from his portrait with a pensive expression.

"I thought you were my friend." Minerva hissed as she went to fetch another bottle.

"I am your friend." The portrait whispered.

Widened green eyes focussed on his framed image, "You cannot even comprehend the meaning of the word."

Albus watched as she found another bottle of whiskey, "What is bothering you?"

Minerva unfastened her outer robe a bit as she approached the painting, "Why did you feel the need to manipulate me, Harry Potter and the rest of the wizarding world? Was it some game to you?"

She opened the bottle and took a large gulp. Pacing a bit, she continued, "In case it has escaped your notice you doddering old fool, but I was the one left in charge after your swan dive from the tower."

Several portraits snickered at Minerva's description of Albus's death. It was then Severus Snape who spoke up, "Actually I was left in charge."

Minerva hissed as she turned to his portrait, "And a wonderful job you did too. How many students did you torture?"

Black eyes lowered in shame, "I did what I had to do."

Snorting, McGonagall took another drink, "Huh.. No doubt. All part of the grand scheme cooked up by a senile wizard with delusions of grandeur. A wizard who even decided to die rather than face the consequences of his actions." She growled as she continued to pace.

"Tabby..."

Another bottle crashed against his portrait. This time some of the glass tore at the edges of the canvas. More liquor dripped onto the floor.

In a quiet voice, Minerva stated, "Have you any idea how many good and decent people have been ruined because of your machinations?"

The portrait of Dumbledore stared at McGonagall. He knew she was right, he just couldn't say it. Instead, it was Snape who spoke up. In that silky voice that could only belong to Severus Snape, he recited names that started with James and Lily Potter and ended with Minerva's own name.

Tears were running down her elegant cheekbones as Minerva stared at Albus, "Children were forced to fight this war. Did you even realize that?"

The Headmistress stalked back and forth like a caged lioness, "The Ministry did not send help. We were left alone. If not for your brother, then the people of Hogsmede would not have helped. The Order was outnumbered. It was the children that took a stand!"

The other portraits began whispering amongst themselves.

Snape's dark eyes gazed at Minerva. Compassion brewed in black depths as he asked, "How many students perished?"

McGonagall stopped in the middle of the room and looked up at the gallery, "Too many."

With that she gave a great heaving gasp as her knees gave out. Crumbling to the floor, the mighty witch surrendered to her grief as she curled up in a sobbing, grief stricken heap.

Snape looked over at the portrait of his former mentor and hissed, "Happy now?"

* * *

_-to be continued_

**AN: *Also known as a drywall knife.**


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Thank you all so very much for such lovely words on encouragement. Y'all rock!**

**HOUSE OF CARDS**

**Chapter Four**

Charlie Weasley was dead.

One year to the day that he was hexed.

Because he was housed in a muggle institution, there was no floo message, no owl was sent. Instead, Doctor Thomas contacted his nephew Dean.

It was Dean Thomas who crossed the banquet hall during the ministry sponsored celebration of the one year anniversary of Voldemort's defeat to lean down and whisper in Arthur Weasley's ear words that had caused the patriarch of the infamous clan to nearly drop to his knees as all the air left his body in an anguished gasp.

News that had taken the Weasley family by surprise. Just one more blow to a foundation that was showing signs of stress. A crack here a, fissure there. Molly and Arthur's marriage like the castle, required constant care and attention to shore up the base upon which it stood.

Without that strength, then even the smallest nudge could send it all toppling down. Like a puff of wind knocking down one of Ronald's card houses.

There seemed to be a deathly quiet that continuously seeped in and out of the Burrow. Like the biblical angel of death that came to earth in the form of an eerie mist, the silence was deafening.

Occasionally one could hear the scritch scritch sound of Molly's cleaning brush as it diligently scrubbed the wooden plank floor in the kitchen.

Sometimes you could hear the sound of the muggle radio that Arthur tinkered with in his workshop.

But mostly there was quiet.

No one could believe that Charlie... wonderful, lively Charlie, would take his own life.

The official report stated that the young man had enjoyed his supper. Then he had stared out of the tiny window in his room as was his after dinner custom. Later when evening medications were passed out, he had taken his without complaint...

It was only just after midnight bed check that the night attendant found Charlie Weasley hanging by the neck from his upturned hospital bed.

How anyone could've lifted it was a miracle in itself.

Unless you were a wizard.

A wizard who had somehow found a way around the spell that had bound his magic. A wizard who had levitated the bed to that particular position using a wandless Wingardium Leviosa. Then it was a simple matter of stripping the bed sheets and fashioning them into the required noose.

It was a planned action as once the lights were brought up, the hospital staff could see that the words "sorry mum" was written hundreds of times all over the walls.

Written in his own blood.

Blood that he'd gotten from knocking out his front tooth on the bathroom sink.

The muggle autopsy report stated that Charlie's brain chemistry had been severely compromised. There was also a tiny side note stating that when his skull was opened up for examination, a puff of purplish smoke erupted from the open wound.

It had them baffled.

* * *

With two empty spots at the table, dinner at the Burrow had become a sombre affair. Gone was the laughter, gone was the glorious chaos that was dinner with the Weasleys.

Many times a take away pizza would be sitting on the kitchen table as Molly couldn't be bothered to cook. She would sit in the living room staring at the crackling fire in the hearth or could be found scrubbing Fred and Charlie's rooms until her fingers bled.

* * *

Ron and Hermione had found themselves a small flat in Diagon Alley.

It wasn't much, but it was theirs. Hermione was a fastidious housekeeper and her home reflected that. Shining floors, sparkling counters and everything carefully put in its place.

Even the canned goods where lined up in neat rows. All with the labels facing forward.*

Just how Ron liked it.

The young man had entered the auror program with Harry and while his best friend excelled at performing the tasks assigned to him, Ronald did not.

His temper was short, he was quick to draw his wand and was becoming increasingly brutal when handling suspects. His behaviour was quickly passed off as "an adjustment period" in dealing with the losses that his tight knit family had experienced.

Harry Potter was worried though.

He had seen the way Ron's increasingly bad temper tantrums were beginning to wear on Hermione. Nothing physical mind you, just a weariness of the soul that left the young woman pale, quiet and withdrawn. Dull brown eyes that looked out at the world with a kind of defeated resignation. Sort of like this was the fate that someone like her deserved.

He'd spoken to Ginny about his concerns. The red head frowning deeply as she listened to her fiancee.

She had decided not to marry Harry just yet. The young woman was sensible enough to realize that both of them were carrying around way too much emotional baggage to even consider matrimony.

The young woman knew her brother well enough to know that he would take advantage of Hermione's mental state. Ginny would be the first person to notice that behind the facade of self-confident intelligence there was a young woman who'd been severely wounded. Physically, emotionally and mentally, Hermione was not well.

And Ron knew it too.

Ginny vowed that she would try to keep an eye on her friend.

* * *

Hermione was in the kitchen when her husband came home from work. Late as usual. He grunted a greeting, then headed into the loo to wash up for dinner.

Ron was never much of a talker, but now even less.

Placing his dinner on the table, she sat down and waited.

She heard him before she saw him...

"Hermione!"

The tall red haired man stomped into the dining room holding a green bath towel. Dark eyes looked up into watery blue, "Yes?"

"Why are there green towels in the loo?"

Frowning, the young witch looked at her husband while quietly replying, "Because the red ones are in the laundry. I'll have them done by the time you come home tomorrow. Alright?"

"Fine."

Ron stomped back down the hall and into the loo. A moment later he returned and sat at his place, "What's for dinner?"

She watched as he picked up his plate and sniffed. Sighing, she replied, "Your mother gave me her recipe for hotpot. I thought you might like it."

Cutting a large hunk and stuffing it in his mouth, the man replied, "Good."

That was the end of the dinner conversation as Ronald quickly ate his meal. Looking expectantly at his wife, he smiled knowingly as she took his empty plate and went into the kitchen to re-fill it.

"You're a good wife 'Mione."

* * *

Later that evening as Ron was listening to the wizarding wireless, he looked over to see his wife sitting in the corner reading.

"What the hell are you reading?"

Warily, dark eyes looked up, "Just an old charms book."

Standing, Ron walked over to the entryway. On the table next to the door where he usually dumped his keys, wallet, wand and whatever else, he reached for a book that he'd brought home.

"Here. I want you to read this."

Walking back to his wife, he took the charms book out of her hand and replaced it with the book he'd brought, "I think you might want to start reading up on this."

It was a book on taking care of a baby.

Dark eyes widened in surprise, "You want to have a baby?"

Nostrils flared slightly as he answered, "I think it's time."

His answer was confident, yet he knew deep down inside that if what he suspected was true, then he wouldn't be able to father a child.

Shaking his head, he pushed the bothersome thought away and smiled at Hermione, "Loads of 'em."

* * *

The next day while Hermione was sorting the laundry, she'd found another receipt from "The Coven".

It was a new bistro that had opened at the other end of the alley. A little discrete checking had revealed that the club was owned by none other than Lavender Brown.

Hermione opened a drawer in the cabinet that housed her laundry washing powder and pulled out a small box. Inside were dozens of similar receipts. All from the same place. The time stamp on each ticket showed that immediately after work, Ron would go to the club and stay for hours.

The young witch was bewildered at her husband's behaviour. He had insisted that they get married but that she continue her schooling. Then he wanted her to drop her classes and take care of their home. Now he wanted to start a family and yet was going to Lavender's club.

Bewildered was an understatement.

* * *

That night after dinner, Ron had taken Hermione to bed. His usual rough lovemaking was even more so. Hermione had taken to closing her eyes and gritting her teeth until he finished. This time, she had opened her eyes to see her husbands face twisted in an almost painful grimace.

_Painful?_

He had pumped and pumped until his climax was upon him. Then with a high squeeky squeal that would've been hilarious if the situation were different, the red haired man climaxed inside his wife. Instantly he rolled off of her and staggered into the loo.

Hermione lay in bed feeling unsatisfied and hurt. Her womanhood had been rubbed nearly raw with Ron's rutting and her nipples were bruised from his teeth. She could feel his release oozing out of her opening and onto the mattress. So, she rolled out of bed and reached for her wand to scourigify the sheets.

By this time, her husband had come out of the loo.

"What are you doing?"

Hermione frowned as she replied, "Cleaning the sheets. I don't want to sleep in your spunk."

Blue eyes darkened, "I don't care about that. Why are you standing up? It'll run out of you." With that he waved his wand and Hermione's body was flipped upside down.

"Ron! Let me down."

She could hear amusement in his voice, "You have to let it settle inside."

"Dammit Ron, you filled me so full! This is just overflow."

Grinning, the red haired man levitated his wife back onto the bed, "There. Better?"

"I'm still upside-down you prat!"

He slid under the sheets on his side of the bed and yawned, "Just a few minutes okay love? I want to make sure you get knocked up."

_Again that little voice whispered in his ear._

"Shut up."

Hermione frowned, "I didn't say anything."

Punching his pillow, Ron waved his hand and cancelled the spell that had his wife hovering over the bed. The witch tumbled onto the mattress in an in-elegant heap.

"You arsehole."

His only reply was a loud, reverberating snore.

* * *

The weeks that followed found the young woman almost obsessively testing herself with home pregnancy kits. Each time however, the result would be the same.

Negative.

Just another failure in a long line of them.

She began searching the internet for information on pregnancy, fertilization and anything else related to the subject. She researched ovulation times, temperatures, hormones... and still she wasn't getting pregnant.

When she brought up the idea that maybe Ron should see a healer about this, the young man exploded in fury at her.

"I'm a Weasley! We breed like rabbits. Of course it's not me." Stomping off like a recalcitrant child.

So Hermione began going to see magical healers and muggle fertility specialists. She was placed on fertility potions and medications. Her body was ready.

She wasn't sure the rest of her was.

* * *

Meanwhile in Scotland...

Rolanda Hooch was taking her new Nimbus out for a spin over the forest when she saw someone suddenly appear at the gates. Squinting golden eyes, she saw that it was Minerva.

The latter had been at the ministry all morning for meetings with Kingsley.

Swooping low, she skimmed the ground as she came up beside the Headmistress.

"Good morning." She cheerfully called.

Apparently Minerva had been so deep in thought that she hadn't heard Hooch approach. Whirling to the side in a spectacular spin and draw, the older woman pointed her ebony wand at the Flying Instructor.

"I surrender!" Rolanda squeaked holding her hands up. Unfortunately this left her unbalanced on her broom. The spike haired witch promptly tumbled to the ground.

"Ow!"

Looking up from her undignified heap on the grass, Rolanda saw that she was still on the business end of Minerva's wand, "Do you mind?"

Emerald eyes narrowed as the wand was lowered, "Dammit Ro, I told you to never sneak up on me. You know how I react." The tall witch leaned down and helped her friend to her feet, "Why are you sneaking around anyway?"

Hooch frowned indignantly, "I'm not sneaking I'll have you know. I was surveying the pitch."

That was Hooch-Speak for "I was out for an afternoon joyride".

Minerva shook her head, then continued on her journey up to the castle.

"So any news?" Hooch prompted as she remounted her broom to ride beside the Headmistress.

It took a long moment for McGonagall to gather her thoughts. Just one more change in the Scottish witch courtesy of the war. She now chose her words very carefully.

Green eyes focussed on yellow, "I saw Arthur Weasley today."

Golden eyes reflected grief and sorrow. Charlie Weasley had been one of Rolanda's favorites. She didn't respond, just nodded her understanding as Minerva took a deep breath.

"The Weasleys are struggling. Arthur and Molly's marriage is severely strained. The children are damaged, struggling to cope with things they should never have been exposed to. Bill and Fleur are seeing counsellors. George has become withdrawn, Ginervra clings to Harry and he clings right back..."

The older witch paused as she considered her next thought.

"Ronald and Hermione are trying to start a family."

That simple phrase was uttered in a voice so flat that Hooch turned to her friend, "What's wrong?"

There was a deeply intense stare radiating out of those expressive emerald orbs as Minerva stared up at the castle, "He keeps her away from everyone but his family. He has convinced her to give up her studies and become a housewife. Now they are trying to get pregnant."

Hooch frowned, "What?" She couldn't believe that the infamous brain of the trio would willingly give up learning all that is learnable, "What happened to her?"

Shaking her head, Minerva sighed sadly as she replied, "She has lost her confidence, her fight, her... everything."

Hooch stared as she watched proud shoulders sag and lengthy strides morph into weary steps. Almost as if another huge weight had just settled upon her friends already overburdened heart.

* * *

Hermione closed her eyes as she felt the probe enter her body. She was in Muggle London at a fertility clinic enduring yet another painful procedure. A single tear escaped her left eye and trickled down into the hair at her temple as she stared up at the plain off-white ceiling tiles.

At this point, she was convinced that the problem with her not getting pregnant lay with Ron and not with herself.

Anytime she tried to speak with him about it, they usually ended up in a huge row with him throwing objects everywhere. Most of the time, they would just land in some far corner, but lately he seemed to be aiming closer and closer to her.

She could not in good conscience be sure that he wasn't trying to hurt her.

Not at this point.

* * *

Days later...

The young witch pulled the wrapping off of the baby books she had just purchased. Ron had been too busy leafing through quidditch journals to actually see what she had been doing. All he knew was that she was looking through more child rearing literature.

Like a good wife.

She had actually purchased two books. One was by a wizarding author who went by the name Doctor Spock**. The other was a duplicate of the book Ronald had purchased for her.

Once they had gotten back to their flat, he had made some excuse about going off to see Harry and left. She knew where he was headed though and it wasn't to see Harry. The latter had admitted that he hadn't seen Ron outside of work in several weeks.

No, Hermione knew where her husband was alright.

With Lavender Brown... or rather at her bistro. She wasn't convinced that Ron had actually cheated yet but she figured it was just a matter of time. The sad thing was that she didn't seem to care. As each day passed, Hermione realized that her marriage to Ron was not what she had imagined it was supposed to be.

Something had changed Ron into almost a complete stranger and the lion within her was slumbering. She had no idea how to wake it.

Frowning, she focussed her attention back to the duplicate book. Waving her wand, she enlarged it slightly. Not so much that it would be noticed, just enough to work for what she was planning. Next she opened it and again used her wand to hollow out the centre.

Smiling, she reached for her charms text book from University and placed it into the newly carved out baby book.

It was a perfect fit.

Grinning, she then moved to her desk. Opening a drawer, she pulled out a stack of blank parchment. Underneath was a packet she had received days prior to her visit to the book store. It was information from the University about a correspondence program that would allow the witch to continue her studies from home.

She wasn't about to tell Ron this because he wouldn't understand her need to complete something that she had started. She had to finish this.

She would not fail.

Not at this.

With a small spark once again burning in chocolate eyes, the young woman began filling out various forms. She would finish her schooling if it was the last thing she ever did dammit.

* * *

-_to be continued_

***From the movie "Sleeping With The Enemy" starring Julia Roberts.**

****There was actually a doctor out there by the name of Benjamin Spock who specialized in child care. My mother had one of his books when I was a wee tacker.**


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: For those of you joining this program already in progress, my Minerva looks very different from what JKR described or Maggie Smith. She appears to be in her forties even though her age is somewhere in her late seventies. Magic is such a wonderful thing!**

**Anyway... The Minerva I see when I write is based on a drawing that appeared on Deviant a while back. Unfortunately the drawing is not there anymore. My sweet brown eyed Brit has graciously posted it for me on Facebook on the MM/HG fan club site. As for Hermione, well... how can you go wrong with Emma Watson? Just give her a wee bit more curves and that's my Hermione. Now onward...**

**HOUSE OF CARDS**

**Chapter Five**

Hermione placed her finished essay in an owl post packet and carefully tied it to Pigwidgeon. The tiny owl had calmed somewhat over time. The young witch was not sure if it was a direct response to his master's unpredictable behaviour or if it was something else. She was grateful for the fact that the owl seemed closer to her these days. It made using him for messaging so much easier.

It also didn't hurt that the owl had been instructed to assist Hermione by Ron's sister.

Gentle fingers softly stroked the feathers on the bird's head for a moment as she stared into the small owl's golden eyes, "Take this to the University for me?"

A tiny nod and a soft hoot was the bird's response as he spread his wings and fluttered out of the open kitchen window.

Over the last two and a half months, she had pushed herself to bring her schoolwork up to date. Ronald's frequent absences had greatly contributed to the young witch's determined march towards finishing her education.

It had become increasingly clear that she was the one who was going to have to change the way things were going in her life. No one was going to do it for her. She was determined to find a way to preserve her marriage as well. That way if it did fail, then she would know that she at least had tried. If she managed to complete her schooling during this time, then at least she would have something to fall back on.

Slowly the young witch was trying to recapture her independence.

She frowned as her thoughts centred on her errant husband. The red haired man was becoming even more erratic. One moment, he was tender and kind. The next he was becoming more of a brute.

She had once read the Robert Louis Stevenson book, "The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde" and couldn't help but make comparisons to Ron.

* * *

Meanwhile at the auror department in the ministry, Harry Potter looked up from the report he was writing to see his best mate stumble into the office they shared.

Ron looked like he'd been going ten rounds with a mountain troll.

"You alright mate?"

The tall man focussed red rimmed eyes on his friend, "Rough night."

Frowning, Harry asked, "Trouble sleeping?"

Ron rubbed at the stubble on his chin, "Been having crazy dreams."

Harry nodded thoughtfully. If Ron was having disturbed sleep, then surely Hermione was being affected as well. With that thought in mind, he asked, "'Mione okay?"

Bloodshot blue eyes seared into Harry's own olive coloured orbs, "Why? She say something?" There was a hint of malice in Ron's voice as he began searching through his desk drawers.

Harry watched as his friend pulled a flask from the lower most drawer of his desk. There was a look of relief on Ron's face as he unstoppered the bottle and poured the contents down his throat.

"What's that?" The dark haired man asked curiously.

Smirking, Ron replied, "Good for what ails ya."

Harry stared at the flask with undisguised interest. Seeing his friend's expression, Ron added, "Lav fixed me up with it. It's her own recipe."

Eyebrows shot up his scared forehead as he gasped, "Lav?... Lavender?" A sudden surge of anger shot through Harry's mind as he blurted, "Are you sleeping with Lavender Brown?"

Blue eyes widened, "Whut? No!"

Harry didn't believe him, Ron could see that in the expression on his friend's face, "Look mate. I'm not doing Lav, I swear! I just go over to the bistro after work for a drink. That's all."

Nostrils flaring, Harry replied, "You shouldn't be going there at all. You should be going home to your wife. You do have one you know."

Blue eyes narrowed and for the first time since Harry had known him, Ron's voice sounded truly dangerous, "What has she said to you?"

Olive eyes narrowed and stared back in challenge, "Not a word. But I have eyes, I can see." He stood from his desk and began to pace, "Hermione has done nothing but be a good wife to you. She gave up her dreams for you!"

Harry was getting right pissed off as he continued, "She has done everything you asked of her. Quit school, kept your house... now you want a baby. She's gone to doctor after doctor and for what? So you can sneak off with Lavender Brown?"

**"I AM NOT SNEAKING OFF WITH LAVENDER BROWN!"** Ron screamed at the top of his lungs drawing the attention of every auror in the department.

Harry snorted as he pointed a finger at his friend, "You keep telling yourself that mate, but don't be surprised when Hermione tells you to go to hell."

With that, he stormed out of the office.

* * *

Ginny was waiting for her boyfriend in the atrium of the ministry. It had been rebuilt since the infamous duel between Dumbledore and Voldemort as well as the changes made during Pius Thicknesse's term as minister.

It had become a symbol of hard won peace. Its design extolling that concept with sweeping arches and curves. With artwork depicting the joy that magic can bring and finally with glass everywhere that let magically induced sunlight into the welcoming area.

A new fountain had been constructed as well. Stylized statues of magical creatures stood together in harmony with a marble witch and a granite wizard while streams of multi-coloured magic swirled around all.

Water sprinkled in crystal droplets from the raised wands of the stone witch and wizard.

Ginny smiled as she watched a witch approach the fountain and drop a sickle into the water while she made a wish. The red haired witch wondered if it were that simple.

She was so lost in her thoughts that she never heard Harry stalk up to her.

"Hey."

The youngest Weasley startled a bit as she turned to embrace her boyfriend. His strong arms holding her close felt wonderful, "How was your day?" She whispered feeling Harry's arms tighten momentarily.

The couple began to move closer to the main entrance not really watching where they were going. A moment before Harry began to speak, both of them barrelled into someone.

"Oh excuse us!"

"Sorry."

"That's quite alright Miss Weasley, Mister Potter."

The familiar Scottish brogue of the Headmistress caused eyes to widen. Minerva McGonagall had been on her way back to Hogwarts after a meeting with the minister. She too had been preoccupied with her thoughts and not been watching where she was going either.

Harry stepped forward checking to see that he hadn't injured the older witch, "Are you alright? We didn't mean to run over you."

There was an amused twinkle shining in emerald eyes as McGonagall replied, "Oh to be young and always in a hurry."

Blushing, Ginny replied, "We really are sorry."

The elder witch smirked slightly at the couples discomfiture, "Where are you two going in such a rush?" She watched as Harry's eyes darkened and his face to cloud as a storm of anger began to brew.

Ginny saw it as well. Leaning in she asked, "What is it?"

If there was one person in the magical world who understood how it felt to be betrayed by Albus Dumbledore, who understood the feeling of helplessness as others controlled your destiny, then it was the witch standing before him. The young man knew that here was someone whom he could trust besides Ginny. Especially regarding his brown eyed best friend.

"I'm worried about Hermione."

Ginny's eyes widened, "What happened?" She had been trying her best to keep an eye on her friend. It was a hard thing to do when said friend refused to admit that there was anything wrong.

Angrily, Harry began to pace a bit as he told both women what had happened in his office with Ron.

Emerald eyes darkened angrily, "Is he having an affair with Miss Brown?" Her nostrils flared as she thought about her favourite student.

If the truth be told, Minerva had never really thought of Hermione as a student per se. More like an assistant of sorts. The young witch did end up teaching the first years during her last year at Hogwarts before she had left with Harry and Ron. It had been a great help to the overburdened Deputy Headmistress as Dumbledore had been doing a great deal of travelling and had left the business of running Hogwarts to her.

She had come to be a great asset to Minerva. They had spent a good deal of time together as the older witch had begun privately tutoring Hermione in advanced Transfiguration techniques.

In turn, Hermione had helped Minerva sort through and organize the mountains of correspondence that had accumulated on the Headmaster's desk. They had grown closer than Minerva had ever allowed a student to become.

The older witch focussed stormy eyes on the young man before her, "Has he harmed her?" There was a dangerous gleam flickering in her angry expression.

Harry shook his head, "I don't think so. At least not physically." He flinched as the Headmistress's eyes snapped. Literally, sparks jumped from her emerald orbs.

"Not physically? What does **THAT** mean?" McGonagall demanded stepping into Harry's personal space until she was nearly nose to nose with him.

Ginny placed a soothing hand on Harry's shoulder as she replied, "He's become something of a control freak. He browbeats her into doing whatever he wants."

The young witch stared off into space as she organized her thoughts. Her crystal blue eyes changed to match the colour of a stormy ocean as the anger that she felt towards her brother made itself apparent, "He knows that her weakness is her sense of failure and he uses that against her."

Harry nodded in angry agreement, "He wants her barefoot and pregnant I think."

"Neanderthal." Ginny snarked, the added, "She's gone to all sorts of healers and doctors to see if she has a physical problem that's preventing her from getting pregnant. Each time, the answer is the same. She's fine. When she tells Ron that, he blows up and says that it's not him."

The red haired woman sighed as she added, "She's given up so much for him... Her studies, her hope for a career, her dreams... her everything."

Minerva was livid and both young people knew it. They took a step back from the fierce witch as Harry muttered, "I've tried to convince Hermione that staying together might not be a good idea, but she just tells me to mind my own business."

Ginny shook her head, "I think that if she did leave him, she'd just look at it as another failure."

Both young people were startled when without warning, McGonagall stepped back and disapparated with a clap of ominous thunder.

Ginny looked at Harry with wonder shining in her eyes, "I thought no one could apparate from the ministry."

Grinning in amazement, Harry replied, "Not unless you happen to be a pissed off Minerva McGonagall."

* * *

Hermione was just finishing the last chapter of her charms assignment when she heard the sounds of the front door opening. Quickly, she closed the book and placed it inside the hollowed out baby book. Setting it on the coffee table, she hurried into the kitchen to warm up her husband's dinner.

Ron Weasley stepped into the flat he shared with his wife. Dropping his keys, wand and wallet on the small table by the door, he paused and gazed into the mirror that hung on the wall.

Turning his head from side to side, he noticed his bloodshot eyes and unshaven jaw, "You really do look like shit mate." He whispered to himself.

A pleasing aroma wafted on the air from the kitchen. Sniffing appreciatively he bellowed, "I'm home. Smells good."

"I made chicken stew." Came Hermione's voice from the kitchen.

Smiling, the red haired wizard made his way to the loo to wash up. When he was finished, he wandered into the living room while Hermione was busily setting the table.

He noticed the baby book laying on the coffee table and leaned down to pick it up just as Hermione called him to dinner. He opened the book and immediately found the alterations she had created. Eyes wide, he pulled out a charms text book.

When Ronald did not come to the table, Hermione entered the living room to find her husband staring at her charms book.

"What the fuck is this?" The red haired man demanded staring at his wife incredulously.

Hermione's first impulse was to cower under her husband's glare but something inside her said, "Enough."

"What does it look like?" She inquired, brows knitting together in a frown.

Snorting, Ron answered, "It looks like a bloody school book that's what it looks like." He slammed it down on the coffee table and asked, "I thought you weren't going to be doing schoolwork while we're trying for a baby?"

The look Hermione shot Ronald was one of pure shock, "Are you kidding me?"

Her anger began to build.

Everything that she had been holding back was beginning to snap and crack in the air around her.

The young witch stared daggers into her husband as she continued, "Try for a baby? Are you daft? What do you think I have been doing for the past year?" She began to stalk back and forth as Ron stood there with his mouth hanging open.

"I have endured test after test trying to figure out why I wasn't conceiving. Some of the bloody things hurt so badly that I thought I was being ripped in half!" She growled as the Gryffindor lion within her came to life. Whirling, she stalked up to Ron and stared into his red rimmed eyes, "And where were you? At Lavender's club?"

At the mention of the blonde woman's name, something sparked inside Ronald, "What the hell do you know?" he hissed.

Hermione expelled a breath as she replied angrily, "I have a box full of receipts from her bistro that you have stupidly left in your pockets. Since you don't do the laundry..." She waved a hand and added, "Nor anything else around here, who do you think found them?"

"They don't mean a thing." Ron growled at his wife.

Hermione clenched her teeth. She had never been so angry as she was at this moment, "Really? Then why are you getting worked up? You are MY husband."

She ran a hand through her chestnut mane and hissed, "Your place is by my side. When I was going to the healers, you should have been right there with me." She shook her head and said, "And when my results came back fine, then you should have gone to the healers to see if there was something wrong with you!"

"Don't you dare tell me what to do!" Ron eyes blazed as he screeched at his wife.

Brown eyes widened as Hermione shot back, "Oh but its alright for you to tell me what to do is it?" She was so mad that her fingers tingled with magical build up.

Growling, Ron's hands clenched into tight fists, "You are my wife. You do as I say."

Hissing, Hermione shot back, "I am a human being not your slave!" Her face began to flush as her anger started to build in intensity.

Ron took a step towards her, "You are my wife. Your place is here in this home. Taking care of the chores, cooking and making babies... and you will do as I say!"

Hermione was never so thankful that her wand was in her back pocket as she watched the vein on the side of Ron's head begin to throb. Still, she growled at him as she replied, "How can I make babies when my husband's bits apparently don't work and he won't do anything about it!"

Ron snapped, he turned and stalked to the small table by the door. Grabbing his wand, he whirled around to find Hermione had drawn her own and was pointing it directly between his eyes.

"Don't even think it." She hissed in a low voice.

Blue eyes narrowed to slits. There was one thing he could do that would really hurt her. With an evil smirk he bellowed, "Accio school books!"

Hermione's text books came flying out from under the sofa, the air vent, the top of the bookcase, the pantry and several other hiding places.

Blue eyes reflecting triumph, Ron Weasley did something that would rip his wife's heart to the core. He turned his wand on the pile of books at his feet and screamed, "Incendio!"

Instantly the tomes burst into flames.

Grinning maliciously, Ron stood before the brown eyed witch and added, "For your information, my dick works just fine."

Livid, Hermione raised a dark eyebrow and replied, "Oh really? Is that why you cry like a baby whenever you come?"

Suddenly objects from all over the room began to fly in her direction. HER objects she noted as she dipped and dodged the incoming barrage. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her husband moving towards her.

She lunged to the left just as he swung a closed fist at her head.

Ron was out of control.

His eyes bulged, his nostrils flared as he puffed out angry breaths. His ears were ringing. Somehow everything that was wrong with him became HER fault. With that in mind, he raised his wand.

He wasn't fast enough.

"Petrificus Totalis!"

Ronald Weasley fell to the floor with a thud of finality.

Panting, Hermione moved over until she was standing over her husband. Staring into blue eyes that had glazed over with his rage, she calmly knelt down and said, "This is not working. You've changed so much that I don't even recognize you anymore. You're not the man I fell in love with."

She paused and ran a tired hand over her eyes, "I don't know who you are. You said that you wanted to start a family with me, but after all the trouble we've had conceiving and with you not wanting to go see a doctor... what's the point?"

Carefully, she reached out a trembling hand and caressed a stubbly cheek, "I'm going to make something out of this mess that I've made of my life." Standing, she added, "And it will be no thanks to you."

With a firm sense of resolve, Hermione walked into the bedroom and summoned a suitcase. Quickly she magically shrank and packed all of her clothes. Walking back out to the living room with the suitcase levitating behind her, she once more knelt beside Ron.

"I'm leaving. I think we need to separate. I need to figure out whether or not this marriage can be saved and you need to decide what you really want out of life because from where I stand, it doesn't seem like it's me."

The young woman stared at him for a moment longer, then rose and strode out of the front door.

From where he lay on the floor, Ron Weasley watched as his wife, the woman he loved more than anything walk out of the door and seemingly out of his life. He lay there unable to move, unable to chase after her.

Unable to beg for her forgiveness.

All he could do was lie still and feel the tears dripping from his eyes; not understanding why he acted the way he did.

* * *

Hermione apparated to Hogsmede. Specifically to just outside of the Three Broomsticks. It was quite dark by now and the lights burning in the windows of the pub made her feel welcome. Rosmerta was a friend and the young witch knew that the older woman would give her a place to stay.

She couldn't go to the Burrow because that was the first place Ron would look. Her parents old house was out of the question simply because it wasn't there anymore.

Some time while she, Harry and Ron had been on the run, Death Eaters had burned the domicile to the ground. It had been fortuitous on Hermione's part that she'd had the foresight to wipe her parents memories and send them to Australia.

Where they remained to this day.

So she figured she'd try Rosmerta.

With a grim expression on her face, she opened the door to the pub and stepped into the gloomy, yet warm interior.

* * *

It was late and Rosmerta had been getting ready to close up for the night when the door opened. Looking up from her place behind the bar, she saw Hermione Weasley enter the pub with a suitcase trailing behind her.

"Uh oh." The older witch whispered as she dropped the rag she'd been cleaning glasses with and stated, "Hey stranger. What brings you out tonight?"

Hermione's dark eyes reflected anger and sorrow as she tersely replied, "I need a place to stay."

Concern flashed over the all-knowing hazel eyes of the pub owner as she replied, "Of course." Reaching under the counter, she pulled out several sets of keys, "I have a couple of rooms available."

She separated out a single key, "This one is farthest away from all the noise."

"I don't have any money right now."

Smiling, Rosmerta cocked her head, "That's okay sweetie. I know you're good for it."

The truth was that Hermione did have some money in her Gringott's account. Mostly from the Order of Merlin she'd received for her acts during the war. Apparently winning the medal also included a considerable cash award as well.

"Come on. Let's get you settled."

Without a word, the young witch followed the frizzy haired innkeeper as she started up the stairs that led to rooms that were available to let.

* * *

It was late in the afternoon the following day when Hermione emerged from her room. She slowly stepped from the stairs and into the bar area.

"I was wondering if you were planning on hibernating or not."

The chestnut haired witch looked up to see Rosmerta behind the bar once again cleaning glassware.

Shrugging, the young witch walked over to the bar, "Didn't see much need to get up beforehand but now I'm kinda hungry."

Nodding, the barkeep smiled and replied, "Go grab yourself a quiet table. I've got some Shepherd's Pie in the oven."

Since there were only one or two other people in the pub, finding a quiet table was not a problem for the young witch. She settled into a dark corner booth that gave her a clear view of the door. She figured with that advantage, she could easily vanish if Ron showed up.

A few moments later, a nice size portion was placed under her nose along with a glass of pumpkin juice. The young witch didn't realize just how hungry she was until the delicious aroma of Rosmerta's famous Shepherd's Pie caused rumbles in her stomach. Ravenously she dug into the food.

Rosmerta raised an eyebrow at Hermione's uncharacteristic display of poor table manners. Obviously the young witch had not eaten in a while. Sliding into the opposite bench of the booth, she inquired, "Wanna tell me about it?"

Brown eyes lifted from the plate to pierce into hazel with alarming focus, "I really don't want to talk about it just yet."

A gentle hand reached across and gripped a dainty wrist, "That's okay. If you want to talk, then you know I'm here."

A grateful nod was Hermione's only reply.

* * *

After consuming her meal, Hermione had ordered a firewhiskey and sat nursing it for the rest of the afternoon and into the evening. Rosmerta kept an eye on the young witch as the latter simply sat staring at the amber coloured liquid in her glass.

Later, as the evening crowd filled up the pub, the innkeeper had the devils own time keeping unwanted visitors to Hermione's table. Finally she'd cast a notice-me-not spell on the young witch.

This kept the drunks at bay.

When the door opened to admit several staff from Hogwarts, Rosmerta breathed a sigh of relief as Minerva McGonagall nodded at the innkeeper as she stepped up to the bar, "Good evening."

Wringing her hands in agitation, Rosmerta replied, "Thank Merlin you are here!"

Surprised, Minerva raised an inquiring eyebrow, "Oh?"

Waving her wand, Rosmerta removed her spell from around Hermione and gestured towards the booth in the corner.

Surprise coloured Minerva's pale complexion as another eyebrow was raised.

Sighing the innkeeper stated, "She showed up last night asking for a room. Had a suitcase with her. Came down a couple of hours ago and has been staring at that drink ever since."

Frowning, Minerva ordered a bottle of firewhiskey, "Has she left Ronald?"

"That's what it looks like."

"Hmmmmm."

The Headmistress collected her bottle from Rosmerta and headed directly towards Hermione's table.

* * *

Hermione became aware that someone was standing next to her table. Her downcast eyes could make out black robes covering black boots.

Brown eyes traced up long legs to a trim, belted waist. Further up, the outline of rounded breasts and finally up to meet piercing emerald eyes.

Aware of the scrutiny, Minerva was surprised to find herself enjoying the way that Hermione was taking inventory of her assets. When those compelling chocolate eyes fastened onto her own orbs, she smiled and whispered, "Fancy some company?"

For the first time in a long while, the young witch's entire countenance brightened as a smile made its way over her lovely features, "Please join me?"

Nodding at the invitation, Minerva settled onto the opposite bench, "I would be honoured."

* * *

_-to be continued_


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: Thank y'all so much for reading this.**

**HOUSE OF CARDS**

**Chapter Six**

Hermione's dark eyes followed every movement the slim witch made as she lithely slid onto the bench opposite her. A small smile quirked up the corner of her mouth as Minerva began to expertly open the bottle of firewhiskey she'd brought to the table.

The older woman paused in her movements as intense green eyes focussed on the drink that the younger witch had been nursing. Raising an eyebrow, she reached across the table and grasped Hermione's full glass, "There is nothing worse than sitting there staring at a perfectly good glass of firewhiskey." With that, she raised the drink to her lips and polished it off in a single gulp.

"Firewhiskey is meant to be drunk not stared at."

It sounded so much like the older witch was in teaching mode that Hermione snorted, "So sayeth Professor McGonagall?"

Minerva smiled as she began to pour the contents of her bottle into the glasses she'd brought, "So sayeth my father."

A knowing grin made its way over her elegant features, "It was one of the few lessons that I actually learned from him."

Snickering, the chestnut haired witch accepted the full glass from her former professor and took a sip.

Nodding her approval, Minerva proceeded to do the same.

Hermione's dark eyes took on a curious gleam, "What other lessons did you learn from him?"

Emerald eyes twinkled as the Headmistress replied, "Oh the usual... how to fly a broom, how to keep my kilt on straight, um..." A mischievous grin turned up the Headmistresses thin lips, "... how to ask permission before mauling a beautiful woman..."

Hermione was in mid swallow when Minerva had said that last bit. Laughter bubbled up causing the young woman to spew her drink across the table.

Minerva stared at the mess her companion made and added, "And how to swallow before laughing."

Blushing, Hermione reached for the napkin holder at the end of the table. Plucking a few out, she began wiping up her mess, "Sorry."

Minerva reached out and captured her hand causing the young woman to pause, "Never apologize for laughing at something I say. I am not known for my humour." A cloud of... something settled over the older woman's features for a moment.

Hermione twisted her hand around and squeezed back, "Only to those who don't know you."

"And you do?"

Shaking her head, "Better than some but not as well as I'd like."

A dark eyebrow rose as Minerva asked, "Are you flirting with me?"

Laughing, Hermione took another sip of her drink, "No. Not really." She looked into curious green eyes, "Just hoping to get to know you better." Another sip was taken before she added, "Then I might start flirting properly."

Minerva threw her head back and laughed deeply. A good long hard belly laugh. Something she hadn't done since before Dumbledore had died.

* * *

Rosmerta looked up from her place at the bar. She could hear Minerva laughing at something Hermione had said. Smiling, she congratulated herself on her move of sending Minerva to the young witch's table. Both women looked like they could use a friend.

Maybe they had just found one.

* * *

Relishing the flavour of the fiery drink, McGonagall set her empty glass down and stared across the table at her companion, "So what brings you here?"

Swallowing down the contents of her own drink, Hermione paused as she felt the spicy liquid travelling down her throat and into her belly with a pleasant burn. Looking up, she saw Minerva's inquisitive green eyes fastened on her.

"Ron and I needed some time apart."

Raising an eyebrow, the elder witch reached for the bottle and refilled their glasses, "Things are not going well then?" She already knew this from her conversation with Harry and Ginny, she just wanted to hear it from Hermione.

Sighing, Hermione closed her eyes for a moment as she mumbled, "That's an understatement epic proportions."

The ensuing silence caused her to open her dark eyes to see her companion with her head cocked, waiting. Pinching the bridge of her nose to stave off the headache she felt coming on, the young woman proceeded to tell her mentor what had precipitated her move to the Three Broomsticks.

* * *

Minerva sat in shocked silence as she listened to the young woman detail her existence as Ronald Weasley's wife. Her eyes darkened with the anger she felt building as she watched silent tears slide down Hermione's cheeks.

Finally, she shook her head, "If life is so difficult with Ronald, then why stay?"

Chocolate eyes glazed over as she pondered her mentor's question. The young witch sat for several moments in silence. She could hear people coming and going as business picked up in the pub. She could even hear Minerva's increasingly heavy breathing as the older witch struggled to control her anger.

Finally Hermione rubbed a tired hand over her face and fastened melancholy eyes on her former professor, "I just want one thing in my life that I'm not a failure at."

Her hand was suddenly grasped within the firm grip of the Headmistress. Startled dark eyes gazed into fiercely sparkling green.

"Now you listen and listen good young lady. You are NOT a failure! You are one of the most brilliant witches it has ever been my pleasure to teach."

Hermione blinked as she whispered, "Pleasure to teach?"

Nodding emphatically, the older witch replied, "You were the kind of pupil that a teacher dreams to have. Someone who soaks up what you are trying to impart and learns from it. Someone who takes that knowledge and improves upon it."

Minerva shook her head, "Every single professor..." She paused and added with a smirk, "Well except Sybil..." She chuckled as she saw a smile brighten the younger witch's face, "Every professor except Sybil used to go on and on about your prowess."

A dark eyebrow quirked, "Even Snape?"

Nodding, Minerva replied, "Even Severus. He was not as demonstrative in his praise of you, but I had never heard him say that any of his other students was adequate. Coming from Severus Snape that was practically an ovation."

The elder witch let go of Hermione's small hand and sat back with a challenging expression on her elegant face. A tiny voice in her head commented on the softness of the skin of Hermione's hand. Startled at that thought, McGonagall crossed her arms over her chest in an unconsciously protective stance.

Hermione didn't notice, she was too busy mulling Minerva's words over and over in her head. Thoughtfully, she rubbed her scarred forearm against the edge of the table.

Seeing this, Minerva once again reached across the table and grasped the young woman's wrist. Pulling Hermione's arm towards her, the Headmistress lay it elbow down. Using her own strength to keep the other witch from wriggling free, she pulled the chestnut haired woman's sleeve up and pointed at her scar.

"Even bearing that does not make you a failure."

Hermione's dark eyes narrowed as she hissed angrily, "Let go." She tried to wrench her arm from the iron grip of her mentor but all she managed to do was cause Minerva to tighten her grasp.

Emerald eyes pierced Hermione's soul as Minerva whispered, "She could have killed you, but she did not."

Nostrils flaring, the young witch retorted, "Only because I was less important to her. She wanted to know how the Sword of Gryffindor went missing from her vault."

Dark eyes went unfocussed for a moment as Hermione remembered the torture she'd endured as Bellatrix sought to discover just how the trio had the sword in their possession. Quietly, she added, "I'm fairly certain that had her interview with Griphook not been interrupted, she would've gotten around to finishing me off."

There was a resolute expression on Hermione's face that caused a faint shudder to ripple through Minerva.

Seizing on the Headmistress's distraction, the young woman wrenched her arm free. Pulling her sleeve back down, she growled, "It doesn't matter anyway. It's a cursed mark. Made by a knife spelled to inflict the most pain, the most punishment. The scars it makes are permanent."

Minerva leaned in, "But it does not mean anything."

Hermione growled, "It means everything!" She watched emerald eyes widen at the vehemence in her statement. Pointing at her arm, she continued in a low, angry voice, "It means that I will always be different. That I will never belong." Tears began to well up...

"It means that no matter how clever I am, I will never be anything more than a mudblood."

Minerva watched as the young woman slid out off of the bench and hurried back up the stairs. Looking over to the bar, she saw Rosmerta mouth the words, "GO AFTER HER."

And she did.

* * *

Hermione was staring out of the window as she unconsciously rubbed at her scarred forearm when she heard a soft knock. Sighing, she walked over to the door and stood for a moment just looking at it.

A minute passed, then another soft knock. This time, the young witch heard Minerva's voice, "Hermione, open the door."

It was softly spoken but there was no mistaking the command...

_Open the door. Now._

Frowning, Hermione pulled the door open saying, "Look Professor, I don't want to talk about it anymore."

Minerva stepped into the room before the young witch could slam the door in her face saying, "Well that is just too bad young lady because you NEED to talk about it."

Hermione huffed angrily, "Well that is certainly the cauldron calling the kettle black now isn't it."

Minerva frowned, "What do you mean?"

Hermione snorted as she went to sit on her bed, "Oh come now Professor. What was it I walked in on not too long ago?" She was referring to the argument between herself and Rolanda Hooch that she'd interrupted.

Minerva stood stiffly, her fists clenched tightly, "That was Hogwarts business."

Hermione snorted again, "Oh so the Flying Instructor knocking the Headmistress on her ass was Hogwarts business? Interesting way to run a school Professor."

Minerva shook her head, she was not going to allow Hermione to change the subject, "Rolanda and I worked out our differences."

She rocked back on her heels a moment and added, "As a matter of fact, she had a muggle punch bag installed in one corner of my office."

Hermione's mouth quirked up in a surprised smile at this revelation. In her mind, she pictured a thoroughly ticked off McGonagall beating the crap out of the helpless punching bag. A small giggle escaped her plump lips.

"You find this amusing?"

Hermione nodded as she stood, "As a matter of fact, I do." The young woman walked to a cabinet by the door and opened it. Minerva could see a number of different bottles of liquor inside.

Smiling, the young woman pulled out a bottle of Ogden's, "I think this would be a step up from firewhiskey."

The ebony haired witch nodded as she conjured two glasses from a pair of earrings on the nightstand, "Indeed."

Hermione's dark eyes reflected shock, "They were my favourites!"

Minerva shrugged, "And they will be again, once we are through." The elder witch walked over to the younger and took the bottle.

Hermione grumbled as she walked by McGonagall, "Yeah and you'll be so drunk that they'll probably end up as two left footed trainers."

Minerva smirked, "We shall see."

* * *

Several hours later...

Hermione leaned against the pillow she'd placed behind her back as she rested against the headboard of the surprisingly comfortable bed. Minerva had mirrored her actions after first removing her boots.

The two witches had polished off the Ogden's and were now working on a bottle of Jura.

Minerva gazed fondly at the bottle in Hermione's hand, "You know I nearly stole Alfons Jura's wife once upon a time."

Hermione snorted liquor through her nose as she cackled madly, "Whut happened?"

Her eyes were so large. They looked like two perfectly round chocolate bon-bons and Minerva remarked as such causing Hermione to guffaw loudly.

The young witch was laughing so hard that tears fell from her cheeks. She looked over at Minerva to see the stupidest grin she'd ever seen on the witches face.

Pointing at Minerva's imitation of Rubeus Hagrid's famous drunken smile, the young woman howled her laughter as she fell against Minerva's side.

"Now this is rather nice." The Headmistress remarked as she placed her arm around the shaking shoulders of her companion.

Sitting up, Hermione's impossibly large eyes got even larger, "Are you flirting with me?" Repeating the words that Minerva had uttered earlier with a devilish grin on her face.

Emerald eyes became just as large as her own as she watched Minerva place a hand against her chest and mock swoon, "Certainly not! What would the ministry think? Oh my word!"

Hermione snorted as she sat back up, "Since when did you ever give a flying fig what the ministry thought?"

Minerva smirked as she took a sip of the Jura, "Since never my dear." There was a glassy look in her emerald eyes that told Hermione that Minerva McGonagall was well on her way to being completely sozzled.

She knew the same was true for herself as she let out a loud belch.

Looking somewhat offended, Minerva sniffed, "So ladylike," Seconds later she let loose an enormous belch herself.

Hermione giggled as she took the bottle from her mentor. Eyeing the witch next to her, she asked, "So how are you getting along anyway? You haven't hexed Trelawney have you?"

Minerva sighed, "No. There are times when I would like to, but I have not." She paused as she looked into warm chocolate eyes, "I am learning to control my temper."

Hermione nodded sombrely, "I imagine it was quite hard on you." She was referring to what McGonagall had gone through whilst she, Harry and Ron had been on the run.

Minerva took the bottle back, "I am dealing with it." With that, she tipped her head back and finished off the bottle. Smacking her lips she stated, "Another dead soldier."

She placed the empty bottle on the night stand on her side of the bed; right next to the other two bottles they'd emptied.

"We have been quite naughty my dear." She whispered, not sure she was talking to herself or Hermione. Not hearing a reply, she turned to her companion only to see the young witch sprawled quite inelegantly on the bed.

Unconscious.

Passed out drunk.

Quietly chuckling as she unsteadily climbed out of the bed, the older witch mumbled, "Lightweight."

Finding a blanket lying on the floor, she picked it up and placed it over the sleeping young woman.

As she stood, slightly swaying, she spied the empty glasses on Hermione's nightstand. A wicked grin made its way across her face as she transfigured them into two left footed trainers.

Snickering, she picked up her boots and tip-toed to the door. Gazing once more at the young woman lying on the bed, the elder witch's eyes went soft as she whispered, "Sweet dreams my dear." Opening the door, she stepped into the hall and gently closed it behind her.

* * *

_-to be continued_

**AN: Sorry for the delay. Will try to put out another chapter soon. Not sure about next weekend though as I'll be running in the Race For The Cure. Three years cancer free and damn proud of it! Thank you Marble for your generous contribution to the cause!**


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: Thank y'all for the sweet PM's. I appreciate the encouragement.**

**HOUSE OF CARDS**

**Chapter Seven**

It was in the wee hours of the morning that Hermione's dark eyes slowly opened. It took her a moment to figure out where she was. The plain off-white walls, the peeling plaster on the ceiling, the lingering smell of wizards tobacco and stale beer...

The Three Broomsticks, in the room that Rosmerta was renting to her. Rent that the older woman had yet to ask for.

The young witch rubbed at her tired and scratchy eyes as that particular thought crossed her mind. Vaguely she wondered why the innkeeper had been so nice to her.

Vaguely.

Her head was full of cobwebs it seemed and her mouth tasted like a Thestral had taken a dump there. The last thing she remembered was drunken conversation with McGonagall... then nothing.

Sitting up, she noticed that she was covered with a blanket. A small moan escaped her lips as the evidence of her drunken doings with the Headmistress presented itself with a vengance. Her stomach roiled and a pounding headache made itself known.

"She must've tucked me in." The young witch muttered wincing at the volume in her voice all the while wondering if her eyeballs were melting. Never mind that she'd just whispered. The roaring in her head amplified every sound. Including the window rattling snore of whatever creature happened to be in the neighbouring room.

Glancing at the bedside clock, she noticed that it was barely two in the morning.

Sitting up further, she ran a hand through her tangled mane grumbling at the snags she felt, "God..." She mumbled, not sure if her word was a prayer or a complaint. Turning her head towards the window, she could see bright moonlight filtering through the faded floral curtains and could barely make out the stars through the streaked glass.

Swinging her legs to the edge of the bed, she noticed that she was still fully clothed. A frown marred her features as she felt a slight disappointment. She'd gotten drunk with McGonagall and nothing had happened...

Dammit.

Dark eyes widened in surprise at that thought, "Where did that come from?" The young witch mused as she stood up and tottered into the loo.

When she'd finished taking care of nature's call, Hermione stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Dark circles under her eyes, frown lines that weren't there six months ago, and her hair...

A nest of nifflers could hide in there and no one would ever find them. Snorting, she reached for her hairbrush and proceeded to coax some order back into her chestnut tresses.

"I wonder what Ron is doing?" She whispered staring at herself. She noticed that tears were welling up. A huge sigh slid out from between her lips as she added, "Am I ready to give him up?" She was feeling conflicted. Minerva, Harry and even Ginny were telling her that she deserved to be happy... yet she had given Ron her word when she said her vows.

For better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health. Till death do us part. She was a woman of her word. The question she was burning to know the answer to was whether Ron was a man of his.

Shaking her head, she placed her brush on the counter and walked back into the room. Spying her cloak hanging on a peg by the door, she grabbed it saying, "There's one way to find out." Looking around for her trainers, she found them on the floor next to her bed and sure enough, they were both left footed.

The thought that her former Headmistress would play such a prank brought a grin to the young woman's face. Waving her wand, she undid the magic and went through the motions of putting her shoes on.

All the while snickering softly.

Not caring that it was the middle of the night, Hermione exited her room and headed downstairs to the door at the back of the pub. Rosmerta had shown her how to open it saying that it was for use by the boarders. Waving her room key back and forth in front of it, she smiled as it unlocked.

This door was for people who didn't want to be bothered by coming in through the busy pub.

Pulling her travelling cloak tighter to ward off the chill in the air, the young witch apparated into the night.

* * *

Meanwhile...

Minerva McGonagall tossed and turned in her sleep. Visions of destruction and death intermixed with her evening with Hermione creating a rather macabre scenario playing out in her mind.

Sweat rolled off of her overheated body as her heart began to pound. Abruptly the older witch sat up blinking rapidly and reaching for her wand.

It was like this nearly every night for the Headmistress.

Usually her dreams were nothing more than her reliving the battle in the Great Hall and the horrors she had been witness to during the year that Severus was Headmaster.

Tonight was different.

Hermione Granger-Weasley was the prominent player featured in her horrifying night terror. McGonagall gasped for air as she recalled the myriad of ways she'd watched the young witch killed in her dream.

Stumbling out of bed, the older witch shuffled into her en-suite. Running water into the sink, she splashed some over her face; all the while trying to control her breathing.

* * *

Hermione appeared with a rolling clap of thunder outside of the flat she shared with her estranged husband. She was hoping that the noise would rouse her loud snoring wizard. She realized with a smirk that her actions were childish at best but she really didn't care.

A huge smirk appeared as she thought that what she was really doing was channelling her inner Snape.

Snarkiness and all.

Quirking an eyebrow, she drew her wand as she went to open the door. Considering how erratic her husband had been acting, a ready wand seemed like a good idea.

Stepping into the sitting room, she paused to listen. Unfortunately all that greeted her was silence.

"Homenum Revelio!" She whispered into the darkened room.

Nothing was revealed except the eerie silence... and darkness. Frowning, the young witch waved her wand at the lamp by the sofa. As it turned on and the state of the room was revealed to her, Hermione gasped.

It was ransacked... kind of.

Upon closer inspection, she discovered that only her possessions were damaged and broken.

"Fecking arsehole!" Hermione hissed angrily as she began inspecting and gathering anything that was salvageable.

* * *

Patting her face dry with a bath linen, the Headmistress stared at herself in the mirror. Slightly narrowed dark green eyes peered back at her. A black eyebrow rose in challenge. Nostrils flared and an upper lip curled insolently.

"You lassie are a very ornery female." A soft whisper sounded.

Surprised at her own sentiment, Minerva growled at herself, then made her way out of the bathroom and into the living area. Walking to the floor to ceiling windows that bracketed her fireplace, the older witch stared out into the darkness.

She was worried about Hermione. That much was certain. What was bothering her to no end was the fact that her concern seemed almost the kind of emotion reserved for those closest to her.

_And she barely knew the young witch at all..._

_Somewhat knew her..._

_Well, maybe knew her better than most?_

_Ah bugger it! Yes, she knew Hermione rather well._

The older witch shook her head, "I am arguing with myself now." Placing her palm against the glass she watched as the heat from her hand formed a warm outline against the cool surface.

Shoulders sagging, she turned away from the window and went to sit in front of the suddenly roaring fire.

The castle looked after her almost as well as the elves did.

Speaking of which, a small elf popped into the room with a full snifter of brandy. Raising it up like an offering, the tiny creature stated, "For you's."

Nodding, Minerva gratefully took the warming drink from the elf and watched as he popped away just as quickly as he'd come. Settling herself on the chesterfield, she raised the snifter to her lips and took a sip. A soothing warmth ran down her throat and into her belly. From there it travelled to her limbs causing a deep relaxing sensation.

A sardonic eyebrow rose as the Headmistress stared at her glass and admitted, "I am slowly drinking myself to oblivion."

Sometimes liquor was the only thing she could resort to for stress relief. Poppy stopped giving her a dreamless sleep draught because of its addicting properties so Minerva returned to the ever so reliable method of drinking oneself into unconsciousness.

Everyone had been affected by the war. Some, like Charlie Weasley, in the most profound of ways. Others like herself had discovered themselves forever changed in smaller fashion. Like her short temper, alcohol intake and a sudden brashness in her behaviour.

Staring at the glass, McGonagall wondered how she'd gotten to this point in her life. Trying to put the school back together while dealing with her own demons.

Demons who happily pushed her to uncontrolled bursts of temper. Who saw fit to torment the Headmistress into impulsive actions. Who took every ounce of logic the once proud Scottish witch possessed and twisted it into neurotic fears.

As the older witch mused, she didn't notice that her hand was gripping the snifter tighter and tighter, As her thoughts continued into memories, her chest constricted and suddenly the glass shattered.

* * *

Hermione returned to her rented room in a foul mood. Clutched in her small hand was a shrunken bag that contained what she had managed to salvage from the carnage her husband had inflicted upon their flat.

She was so angry that small puffs of smoke seemed to be snorting out of her nose. She tossed the bag on the sofa and stomped into the loo. Staring at her reflection, she grumbled, "Maybe everyone is right. Maybe you just need to cut your losses and get out while you can."

Saddened dark eyes stared back at her.

Shaking her head, she asked herself, "Are you ready to give up? Do you love him enough to try again?"

There were no ready answers, only the same thing she'd been telling herself all along.

"I don't know."

* * *

Thwack!

Thwack!

***grunt***

Thump, thump thump..

Thwack!

Thwack!

***snort***

"Minerva? Are you in here?"

Thwack!

Thwack!

Thump!

Rolanda Hooch walked into the Headmistress's office to the sounds of her friend beating the stuffing out of her punch bag. One side of the Flying Instructor's mouth quirked up in a smirk as she watched the older witch beat the crap out of the hapless sack of stuffing.

McGonagall was dressed in a sleeveless red t-shirt and black drawstring jogging bottoms. A white sweatband decorated the older witch's glistening forehead. Sweat had coloured the front of her shirt dark red from just below her collar bones, between her breasts, to a line straight down over her flat stomach to the waist band of her trousers.

There was a similar line running down Minerva's back as well.

Hooch's yellow eyes widened as she saw that her friend was barefoot. She also noticed that Minerva McGonagall had some very muscular arms. Well defined, toned and sexy.

Very sexy.

The spike haired witch had to admit that Minerva cut a damn appealing picture at this moment. Too bad her temper seemed to be getting the better of her again.

Too bad McGonagall wasn't interested in her.

_Dammit._

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

Gasping for breath, McGonagall stepped back. Rolling her head and bouncing on her toes, she focussed vivid emerald eyes on the punch bag.

"Before you punish that poor thing any more, I was wondering if you had plans later?"

Startled, the dark haired witch peeped around the large canvas object, "Whut?"

Grinning, Hooch walked over and took and experimental jab at the dangling, heavy bag.

"Ouch!" Shaking her hand, the frowning woman gave the offending bag a good swift kick.

"Feel better?" Minerva asked, rolling her neck again.

Frowning, Hooch looked down at her knuckles, "No. Now my hand is skinned! I need to go to see Poppy."

Minerva smirked, "She is much too busy for that little scrape. Perhaps I should send you to the N.H.S.*?"

"Bugger off woman!"

Chuckling, McGonagall reached for a towel and began wiping away her perspiration.

Hooch watched as the Animagus began doing some amazing stretching exercises. Contorting her body into nearly impossible positions.

"You must be bloody made out of rubber."

The older witch laughed, "No, it just pays to be a cat sometimes."

Hooch cocked her head at an odd angle as she watched her friend do a back bend that would've sent anyone else to St. Mungo's. "So you never answered me, do you have any plans for tonight?"

Minerva straightened her body and took a deep cleansing breath, "I was planning on seeing Hermione tonight. I would like to make sure that she is alright."

Hooch grinned, "Hermione eh?" Frowning, she added, "Isn't she married?"

Frowning, Minerva took another whack at the punch bag as she replied, "Separated."

Thwack!

"I think."

**THWACK!**

* * *

Hermione was just deciding what she wanted for her dinner when a knock sounded. Frowning, she stepped over to the door and cautiously opened it a crack, "Hello?"

Two large pizza boxes greeted her followed by a Scottish brogue saying, "Special delivery."

Smiling, the young witch swung the door open in a welcoming gesture as she said, "Come in, come in. I was just deciding what I wanted for dinner."

Minerva McGonagall stepped into the room carrying two large pizza boxes followed by several bags floating behind her in parade fashion.

Dark eyes widened, "Jeeze what did you get?"

Placing the boxes on the small coffee table in front of the sofa, the tall witch replied, "I apparated to Piccadilly in London. I figured no one there would be suspicious of seeing an old woman walking about in flowing green robes."

Hearing Hermione snicker, the older woman continued, "I found a Domino place and ordered everything they had on their light up menu placard." She tugged on her ear and added with a rueful expression, "I had the devil's own time figuring out muggle money. I dare say I gave them way too many Elizabeth's."

Laughter exploded from the young witches lips at hearing Minerva's description of bank notes. The young woman conjured some plates, utensils and a large pile of napkins and proceeded to sit on the sofa. An odd smell caused her nose to twitch.

"What kind of pizza did you get?"

Minerva settled herself next to Hermione and answered with a smile, "I got one for you and one for me."

"I hope the smelly one is your's."

Minerva snorted, "What do you mean smelly?"

"The fishy smelling one."

Emerald eyes lit up, "Ah yes. I have anchovies and prawns on mine. Along with some mushrooms." She reached into the pocket of her robes and said, "I borrowed this from the potions stores." She held up a dark coloured phial.

Hermione squinted trying to make out what the label read, "What is that?"

Pulling her pizza in front of her, Minerva opened the box. Inhaling deeply, a large Cheshire cat grin appeared on her face. Unscrewing the lid, she replied, "Eye of newt." Then sprinkled the contents all over her pizza.

"Ewwwww!"

An eyebrow rose in reply.

"That is just gross." Hermione muttered as she pulled her own pizza over. Cautiously, she opened the box and peered inside.

Huffing, Minerva snarked, "Well my dear you try spending your life sharing tastebuds with a cat and see if that does not change how you view food."

Shaking her head, Hermione said, "So you like what... cat pizza?"

"There is no such thing. If there were, then I would most assuredly be enjoying mouse as well." Came a haughty reply. The older witch pulled a slice out of the box and took a large bite, "Mmmmmm."

Hermione snorted, then turned back to her own dinner. A normal looking pepperoni, sausage and bacon masterpiece, "Now this is a pizza!" She grinned, pulling out her own slice.

She watched as a single newt eye fell off of the older woman's slice. Curiously, she picked it up and sniffed.

It smelled like dead fish, swamp and... something herb-like.

Catnip?

Hastily she handed it back to her mentor and watched in total disgust as Minerva popped it into her mouth, chewing blissfully.

"Ewwwww."

* * *

By some act of the god of gluttony, all of the food that Minerva had brought had been consumed. The older witch eyed her dinner companion with a look of grudging respect, "For such a small person, you certainly have a large appetite."

Hermione leaned back on the sofa and unfastened the top button of her jeans. Sighing in relief, she looked down at her protruding belly and let out a loud belch.

Grinning Minerva also leaned back saying, "In some countries it is a sign of respect to belch after a meal."

Nodding, Hermione said, "Well in that case.." She let out another loud burp.

Minerva shook her head, "So lady-like."

Snorting Hermione shot back, "Oh sure, this from a woman who eats fish eyes on her pizza."

Waving her hand dismissively the older witch replied, "I shall have you know that they were newt eyes NOT fish eyes. There IS a difference."

The Headmistress watched with approval shining in her green eyes as Hermione vanished the leftover detritus from their meal, the she frowned as Hermione turned her head and gazed silently out into space.

"Alright then?"

With a pensive expression on her lovely face, the younger woman reached for a bag that had been propped against her side of the sofa. Curiously Minerva watched as Hermione rummaged through said bag before pulling out a cracked wizarding photo.

It was a photo of Hermione and Ronald on their wedding day.

The glass had been cracked and the frame was chipped.

A single tear squeezed from between suddenly closed eyelids. The young woman felt the photo being removed from her hands, "Wha..."

Dark eyes snapped open to see Minerva McGonagall place the photo face down on the coffee table.

"Do not think about that. At least not now." The Headmistress said as she took a small hand in her larger one. Squeezing gently, she cocked her head and asked, "Do you like muggle football?"

Surprise widened dark eyes, "Well I used to watch Man U games with my father."

A huge grin brightened Minerva's face, "Excellent." She stood up, preparing to leave, "I shall like to go to the Rangers versus Celtic game in Glasgow this Friday. Would you like to accompany me?"

Hermione's mouth fell open in surprise as she nodded.

"Splendid! I shall pick you up at six, so I suggest that you wear something warm." With that said, the Headmistress walked to the door.

Hermione was just getting to her feet when she saw Minerva turn abruptly and stare at her for a moment. Then the tall woman stepped close to the younger witch and grasped a small hand.

Raising it to her lips, she placed a tender kiss on the knuckles.

"Till Friday then."

With a swirl of emerald robes, the Headmistress of Hogwarts opened the door and disappeared.

Hermione stared at the empty space in the doorway, then down at her hand, then back at the door.

"Did she just ask me out on a date?"

* * *

-_to be continued_

***National Healthcare System.**


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: Thanks for sticking with me y'all. It really means a lot.**

**HOUSE OF CARDS**

**Chapter Eight**

It was Friday morning when Hermione finally ventured out of her rented room and downstairs into the pub. Once again Rosmerta was polishing her glassware behind the bar. She actually didn't need to do that as long ago she'd charmed her steins, stemware, goblets and such with a self-polishing charm.

She liked to appear busy to her patrons and not watching them. Which was what she actually did.

People watching. It was her favourite hobby. Rosmerta considered herself a student of the human condition. Over the years, she'd become quite good at reading body language. For instance, when Alistair Moody would come in, before his death of course, he would always pick a seat in some dark corner, with his back to the wall. Paranoid as ever.

Severus Snape would pick a spot near the fireplace so he could have a warming drink and stare into the flames. Rosmerta generally would join him at some point and just sit. Snape never talked.

Rita Skeeter would come in every once in a while and enjoy a glass of wine at the bar. No one ever sat near her. The reporter would look around the crowded pub with almost a wistful expression.

Albus Dumbledore would pop in for an occasional drink. Always something sweet and lemony. Rosmerta smiled as she remembered how much the old wizard had raved when she'd handed him a "special" goblet of ale. The frizzy haired witch had added lemon zest and twenty five sugar cubes to the drink.

She'd named it the "Albus" in his honour. Unfortunately no one was brave enough to venture drinking it.

The odd thing about Dumbledore's visits was that he even showed up at her business and not the Hogs Head. After all it WAS owned by Aberforth. Rosmerta was one of the few people who knew that Abe was Albus' brother. She also knew how much the other pub owner resented his elder sibling.

She shook her head sadly. Such a waste.

Hearing a noise on the stairs, she looked up to see Hermione stepping into the pub.

Now there was a confused young witch if she ever saw one.

Rosmerta felt a sort of parental affection for the young woman. She'd watched her grow up. The older witch had always made it a point not to get too close to the youngsters from the school. She didn't want to influence them and she knew that their time in this part of Scotland was only temporary.

Hermione was different.

From the moment the little witch had entered the pub, Rosmerta knew she was different. Not because she was a muggleborn, not because she was friends with the-boy-who-lived...

It was something deeper. The older witch recognized in young Hermione a strength of character, a will of iron and a heart of gold. This young lady was an inherently good human being. There were no dark intentions brewing within the little witch.

She stood out.

Rosmerta saw it. Dumbledore knew it and apparently Minerva McGonagall craved it...

Judging from the determined expression on the older witch's face last night. Rosmerta smirked as she thought about the current Headmistress of the school. Minerva had come out of the war a very angry witch. The animagus seemed to have lost a bit of her legendary self control. Her normally piercing green eyes had become stormy with emotion.

Especially around Hermione.

The older witch stopped polishing for a moment as that thought whirled around her mind. Hmmmmm.

* * *

Hermione stood in front of the door to her and Ron's flat for what seemed like forever. Her heart was pounding and her palms were clammy and clenched in white knuckled fists. Minerva had told her that she needed to dress warm for the football match tonight so realizing that she'd left her warmest coat at the flat, she'd come back.

Luckily the wards still recognized her and she quietly entered.

It was clean.

Sort of.

The broken debris had been removed, smashed furniture had been fixed and the pictures on the walls had been replaced or repaired.

Most of them anyway...

She noticed that any with just she and Ron in them were conspicuously absent.

It became quite evident that there was no one home, despite the relatively early hour. Shrugging, the young woman opened the cloak cupboard near the front door to see that her coat was still there.

"Out of sight out I mind I guess." She whispered as she reached in and pulled out the required item. Laying it on the arm of the sofa, she decided to see if there was anything else in the bedroom that she wanted to get.

As she entered the room, a scent immediately assailed her nostrils. Cloying and flowery and definitely NOT hers. The young witch felt her teeth begin to grind as a dark frown drew her eyebrows closer together. Spying the unmade king size bed, Hermione walked over to her side.

There was something on the pillow that caught her eye.

Hair.

Golden blonde hair.

Levitating the strands to eye level, she could see that there was a bit of flesh that was still attached.

Almost as if it had been ripped out of someone's head.

Summoning a plastic sandwich bag from the kitchen, the dark eyed woman placed the hair within it. Looking closer at her side of the bed, she also noticed a few more hairs and what appeared to be blood. Small drops on her pillow.

Not her blood.

Angry tears made her vision precarious for a moment before an impatient hand wiped them away. Shaking her head, Hermione stormed out of the room. Grabbing the coat from the sofa, she exited the flat firmly resolving not to cry.

She failed.

* * *

Later, after a long episode spent crying and feeling sorry for herself, a resolute knock sounded on the door to her room at the Three Broomsticks. Checking her hair and makeup in the mirror to make sure there was no evidence of the past few hours doings, Hermione called out, "Come in!"

The door opened and standing in the doorway was Minerva McGonagall clad entirely in cobalt blue. The team colour of the Rangers judging by the name emblazoned across the older woman's chest. The green eyed woman was also wearing the same colour trousers.

"How do I look? Like a muggle fan?" The older woman queried with a large grin plastered across her lovely face.

Giggling, Hermione replied, "More like a tall and slim blueberry." She pulled her wand out and waved it with a flourish, "That's better."

Minerva's lower half was now clad in black.

The Headmistress looked down at herself and shrugged, "Well alright then." She held out her arm for Hermione to take her elbow, "Ready?"

Nodding the young witch grasped the proffered arm and with a crack the two witches disappeared.

* * *

**"Run ya spindly bugger! Run!"**

Hermione stared wide eyed as she watched her mentor jump up and down, waving her arms as she yelled.

**"Aye! That's it!... Ohhh! No! No! Catch the little wanker!"**

Mouth falling open the young witch fought down the laughter as she beheld a Minerva McGonagall she had never seen before.

Rabid football fan.

Both of them were perched on top of the announcer's booth in what was undoubtedly the best seat in the house. At least according to McGonagall.

**"Look at the bloody piker runnin' like he's bein' chased by a deatheater!"**

This was followed by a loud screech that sounded something like, _"PutitinDammit!" _

Hermione shook her head and grinned at her new friend, "You weren't kidding. These are the best seats in the house. Even if we aren't doing a lot of sitting."

The bright smile she received caused her own to widen still.

Headmistress McGonagall began bouncing on the balls of her feet as she screamed.

**"Yes! Yes! Yes!"**

Apparently her enthusiasm was enough to cause a balding man to step out of the booth below them and gaze in puzzlement at the seemingly empty space on top of the booth. The concealing charm was doing its job much to the young woman's relief.

The silencio appeared to have worn off though.

Grinning, the brown eyed witch heard the man call out to someone inside the booth, "I'm tellin' ya Ernie, there's no one bloody up there!"

A great roar from the crowd caused Hermione to look up just as Minerva's dear Rangers scored a goal.

Joining in the happiness, McGonagall roared, **"Yeeeee Hoooooo! Goal!" **

The tall witch was waving her arms and bouncing around like a sopophorous bean on brewing day.

Hermione loved every minute of it.

To see this woman so open and free. Loudly expressing her joy in the moment. It made the young woman wonder whether Minerva was as loud in other "moments".

She felt her face flush at that thought, "Oh my." Came an embarrassed whisper.

"What was that dear?"

Shaking her head, the dark eyed beauty said, "Oh my... uh this is exciting."

Bright green eyes sparkled, "I am pleased you are enjoying the match." Minerva turned back to watch the action just as Hermione muttered, "Not as pleased as I am at seeing this new you."

**"That was a bloody shit call!"**

Doing a double take, Hermione chuckled as her former professor crudely vocalized her displeasure at the referee's decision.

Tucking her hands inside her coat, she took a moment to gaze around the stadium at the throng of screaming fans clad in a sea of cobalt blue and black or bright green and white stripes.

There was an air of excitement that both witches found themselves joyfully caught up in. Especially as Rangers scored another goal.

**"YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!"**

In her excitement, Minerva grabbed Hermione in an embrace, spinning the young witch around several times. Gleefully the young woman bounced up and down in tandem with the older woman.

**"Go! Go! Go! Run ya skinny wotsit!"**

Just as the last seconds ticked by, Hermione reached out and caught Minerva's hand. The older witch screaming her joy at her team's win chose that moment to pull the chestnut haired witch against her body.

**"We won!"**

Thin lips crashed down upon moist plump ones in an enthusiastic smooch that quickly turned into something else entirely.

Deep brown eyes gazed up into darkening emerald, "In more ways than one I'd say."

With the crowd roaring all around, lips met once more in a touch that set the young witch on fire. Apparently the kiss had the same effect on the older woman as Hermione heard a deep groan rumble from Minerva.

As quickly as it had begun, it came to an abrupt halt as deep chocolate met burning emerald. A long, charged minute passed, then Minerva muttered, "I best get you home."

Hermione felt a gentle hand on her cheek for a fleeting moment, then an arm pulled her close. An echoing crack of thunder sounded as the two witches disappeared from the top of the announcer's booth.

The balding man popped out once more saying, "Is it going to rain?"

* * *

"I had a wonderful time. Thank you for inviting me." Hermione said as she stood in front of her room. Her taller companion nodded, "I am glad you enjoyed yourself."

For some reason, the Headmistress had trouble meeting Hermione's enquiring eyes.

A small hand tentatively reached out and grasped a larger one. Giving a reassuring squeeze, Hermione whispered, "I enjoyed everything."

Her meaning was quite clear.

Startled green orbs finally looked up to see a lovely smile and warm dark eyes twinkling up at her.

Blushing, Minerva cleared her throat, "Erm... thank you?"

A quite chuckle issued from suddenly very interesting lips. Lips that found the Headmistress leaning down to taste once more.

Realizing what she was doing, Minerva stopped herself and quickly backed away, "Um... goodnight Miss... err... Goodnight Hermione." With that she turned and started to walk to the stairs.

Hermione smiled sadly, then turned and opened the door. The first thing her eyes landed upon was the plastic bag that contained the blonde hairs she'd found in the flat earlier that day. Frowning, she made a decision.

Maybe not the best decision, but a decision none the less.

Turning back to the open door, she called, "Minerva?"

McGonagall had just made it to the stairs when she heard Hermione call out her name. Turning, she retraced her steps back to the young woman's room where she saw the lovely witch standing in the doorway with a hopeful expression on her face. Beckoning the elder woman into the room, she asked, "Can you at least stay for a drink?"

* * *

One drink became two, then a third. With each glass the witches found themselves slowly moving closer to the other. Finally with thighs pressing against each other, Hermione could stand the tension no longer.

Snaking her arms around the swan-like neck of her companion, she pulled the startled older woman into a searing pressing of lips upon sweet lips.

One kiss became two, then a third. A delicious smacking of wet lips sounded as Minerva pulled back, "Hermione... I.."

She didn't get to finish as small hands found themselves pulling ebony hair out of its signature bun. Those same hands roamed her scalp causing the most delicious tingles to make themselves evident to the Headmistress.

Still, the older woman did possess some modicum of sense.

"You are married. I cannot do this."

Hermione pulled back to look into troubled eyes, "Do you not want me?"

Sighing, the elder woman made to get up, "It is not about want Hermione. It is about what is right."

Following Minerva up, the younger woman stated, "I think it's everything about want. I want you and I KNOW you want me." She stepped close to Minerva and reached up to caress her cheek.

McGonagall leaned down and tenderly kissed sweet plump lips, "Yes I want you but I have some bit of honour left. You are a married woman."

Hermione shook her head, "I am a separated woman with a marriage that is crumbling and a husband who is sleeping with someone else." She walked over to the side table and picked up the plastic bag.

"I went back to the flat this morning expecting to find Ron and instead I found these on my pillow." Hermione handed the bag to her mentor to examine as she turned to look out of the grimey window. Growling, she raged, "ON MY PILLOW!"

Suddenly a deeply hurt expression roiled across the elegantly beautiful features of the Headmistress, "So you wanting to sleep with me is some kind of act of revenge? Is that it?"

Hermione whirled around to see Minerva walking to the door, "Stop!"

The tall witch stopped. Her posture ram rod straight. Arms resting at her sides, fists clenched.

"You are not some kind of revenge Minerva. Please believe me. At first maybe that thought did cross my mind, but only for a moment. Just a moment!" Tears began to run down her face.

"I just want someone to love me."

Reaching for the door McGonagall whispered, "I do not know how to love anymore."

"Liar."

Turning around with eyes blazing, Minerva discovered that Hermione had again moved into her personal space. Once again lips crashed against lips.

This time neither witch pulled away.

* * *

_-to be continued_

**AN: I just want to thank all of you who sent pm's inquiring about my whereabouts. Thank you for your concern, for your pokes and prods. At the end of December, right before Christmas, my landlord informed me that he was turning my apartment into an office for a home based business and that I needed to find somewhere else to live. **

**Merry Christmas to me. **

**Luckily Tan found a place through her diligent internet searches and shortly before New Year's I found myself living on a farm owed by an elderly couple who rescue farm animals. Apparently they rescue people too. God bless you Beverly & Sam.**


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: Thanks y'all... you know what for.**

**HOUSE OF CARDS**

**Chapter Nine**

Faint stirrings from the room next door caused dark brown eyebrows to knit together in the beginnings of a frown. The rise and fall of something wonderfully soft under her cheek caused chocolate eyes to blink open sleepily.

In the quiet of this moment, there directly in front of suddenly widened eyes, was the tender skin of a pale pink nipple barely visible in the first faint rays of morning light. It was slightly hardened in the chill of her drafty rented room. The sound of quiet inhalations caused Hermione to awaken fully. She was lying with her head pillowed on the chest of a naked woman.

Not just any woman mind you...

Minerva McGonagall.

Last night's doings played out in her mind as she felt her whole body flush in a combination of embarrassment, shock and arousal. Oh yes, last evening was.. Had been...

Amazing.

A tender smile turned up her cheeks as she recalled just how skilled Minerva was beneath the blankets.

And how passionate.

It had been almost animalistic at times. The older witch had lost the tenuous control she had on her emotions and the end result had been the explosive sex that had taken place the night before.

The young woman remembered feeling fangs on her neck and claws at her hips. She remembered the low growly sounds Minerva made as she took Hermione from behind in a surprising bit of sexual magic that still caused a fierce blush to wash across her pale features.

There had been a look in emerald eyes, turned to cat-like slits that had been intensely primitive.

Possessive.

Demanding.

A slightly trembling hand rose to stroke across the dove soft skin of a well muscled stomach. That same skin slowly erupted in rows of goosebumps as a hitch in Minerva's breathing caused Hermione to pause in her caress.

A moment later, after the slumbering witch's breathing had evened out, the younger woman resumed her tender explorations. Inquisitive fingers slid over the bump of bones of Minerva's rib cage. A raised patch of skin alerted Hermione that she had found a scar.

One of many she'd discovered during the activities of the night before.

The witch beneath her was no stranger to war. To the horrors wrought by the violent whims of the likes of Grindlewald and Voldemort. To the marks these bloody conflicts had left upon her body.

Upon her soul.

Hermione wondered what demons tormented the Headmistress in her dreams.

Questing fingers continued their journey up to the rounded softness of a breast. Tenderly she stroked and soothed. Smirking slightly as the pale pink of a dormant nipple darkened to a lovely rose. As blood filled the velvety nub causing a peak to form.

"If ya keep doin' that, I shall not be responsible for my actions." A sleepy voice rumbled, the relaxed lazy tone of the sexually sated threading through the Headmistress' unchecked brogue.

Smiling, Hermione's eyes darkened to twinkling chips of the purest onyx as she replied, "Well I guess I need to continue then."

A deep purr erupted from the Headmistress, then in a flurry of rustling sheets, she was upon the younger witch.

Upon her mate.

* * *

Later, two bodies covered in the drying sheen of sweat lay entangled. Arms and legs wrapped around panting nakedness. A sudden tummy grumble caused Hermione to burst into giggles.

Affronted, Minerva propped herself up on her elbows and with a raised eyebrow asked, "What is so funny aboot a hungry belly? Ya gave me quite the work out."

Her brogue was thick and unguarded and Hermione loved it.

Slender arms pulled the older woman down into a deep, wet kiss. The kind that leaves a satisfying smacking sound as lips pull away from each other. Nipping at the older woman's chin, Hermione whispered, "Then I guess we better feed the beast eh?"

"Tis your fault." Minerva growled as she slipped out of from under the blankets. Waving her wand, she transfigured a bath towel into a robe. All the while smirking at the chocolate leer being shot her way by the lusty witch still reclining in unclothed decadence on the bed.

Smirking, Minerva pointed a finger at Hermione and stated in a voice dripping with sexy playfulness, "Horny bugger."

Raising her arms over her head, knowing that the sheets were falling to her waist, the young witch displayed her ample breasts to widening forest green eyes.

There was a saucy, teasing tone in her voice as she replied, "I believe the horny bugger in this room would be you."

* * *

After breakfast had been delivered by a wide eyed Rosmerta, Minerva watched as her lover rose and walked to the window. The older witch knew that one night of sex was not going to cure the young witch's issues nor her own. She needed for Hermione to find herself again. To find her confidence. To find that absolute belief in her own abilities.

In her heart of hearts, she selfishly admitted that she wanted to be the one that Hermione "found" herself with. She had mated with Hermione last night.

It was the last thing she wanted to do and yet could not control her animagus driven impulses. Spending time with the young woman had made Minerva realize that in spite of Hermione's emotional turmoil, she was the one the Headmistress wanted.

The question was, what did Hermione want?

* * *

The streets of Hogsmede were bustling with witches and wizards going about their mid morning business. Hermione watched the activity from the room she was staying in at the Three Broomsticks. She was acutely aware of emerald eyes boring holes into her back but she couldn't seem to tear her eyes away from the flash of red hair she noticed below.

Minerva saw the sudden stiffening of her lover's shoulders and immediately rose to join the young woman at the window. Frowning as she scanned the scene below, emerald eyes spied what must've set Hermione off.

Red hair.

Shaking her head sadly as the realization that perhaps her lover truly wasn't her's after all made itself blatantly known. Reaching out a comforting hand, the older witch caressed the stiffened back of the chestnut haired woman, "You have many issues left to deal with."

Tear filled chocolate eyes gazed up into watery emerald as a small trembling hand reached up to cup an elegant cheek.

"I know."

Minerva inclined her head in the direction of the red haired person below, "Do you still love him?"

Slowly Hermione nodded, "I know I shouldn't, but part of me still does." She watched as Minerva began to back away and added, "But I think I love you too."

Sadly, the Headmistress looked deeply into grief stricken chocolate pools and whispered, "You cannae have it both ways."

Hermione ran a frustrated hand through her tangled mane and replied, "I gave him my word... on our wedding day."

She was referring to her wedding vows and Minerva knew it. Frowning, the older witch pointed at the plastic bag containing the hairs that Hermione had found in her bed, "Vows that Ronald and now you have broken."

Tears rolled down soft cheeks as Hermione whispered, "I don't know what to do."

Minerva made a decision. Turning back to the bed, she summoned her robes. Not caring about propriety at this moment, she dropped the robe she was wearing and proceeded to get dressed.

Hermione watched as a body that must've been sculpted by the gods was slowly covered by the tartan armour that Minerva McGonagall hid behind each day.

Finally charming her hair back into the bun of iron, Minerva whispered, her voice breaking along with her heart, "You must do what you feel is right." Moving towards the door, she stated, "You know where to find me."

She watched as Hermione turned once more to gaze at the street.

Staring at the bag containing the hairs, the older witch silently summoned it to her hand. With one more glance at her love's back, the Headmistress' eyes reflected the sorrow of a breaking heart as a single tear slid down a proud cheekbone. Gathering what little resolve she had left, Minerva McGonagall stood tall. Another glance at the bag in her hand and an idea began to form.

As she heard the click of the door closing, Hermione's shoulders began to shake as violent tears gushed down her face.

* * *

_**THWACK!**_

_**THWACK!**_

_**THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!**_

The heavy canvas punch bag wobbled and reeled back and forth, to and fro as the Headmistress pummelled and pounded on it. Emerald eyes locked in a furious intensity glared at the hapless bag as hard fists pounded into it.

_**THWACK!**_

_**THWACK!**_

Sweat had drenched Minerva's sleeveless workout shirt and her muscled arms glistened as she threw yet another flurry of jabs and upper-cuts.

Panting from her exertions, the ebony haired witch growled as the canvas bag suddenly took on the face of Ronald Weasley.

_**THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!**_

"You do not deserve her!" Minerva screamed her fury as a well muscled leg rose and kicked the bag.

Hard.

So hard that the chain holding the bag to a hook in the ceiling abruptly snapped off.

Clapping sounded from the doorway of her office.

Whirling around, the dark haired witch saw Filius and Rolanda standing in the doorway clapping.

"Whut?"

Hooch stepped further into the room and Minerva could see that she was sporting an eyepatch. Raising an eyebrow, she asked, "What do the healers say?"

The spike haired witch cocked her head and replied with a smirk, "No hope for the poor bugger. It had to go. Hence the patch." She struck a "pirate-like" pose. "Do you think I could give Captain Morgan a run for his money?" She was referring to the mascot of a spiced muggle rum she was fond of.

"He will not know what hit him." Minerva replied with a sad smile. She knew that Hooch had to be devastated by the loss of her eye. Her natural defence was to poke fun.

The silver haired witch moved to the lump of canvas lying so forlorn looking on the floor, "Neither did the bag apparently."

It was at that moment that she noticed that Minerva's knuckles were raw and bloody, "Jeeze woman! Don't you know you're s'posed to wrap your hands?"

McGonagall looked down at her hands. Until that moment, she hadn't realized that she'd punched the skin clean off of her knuckles.

"Bugger."

Filius stepped forward and with a wave of his wand produced a basin filled with cool water, "Wash your hands Minerva." He ordered as several towels and some sterile dressings appeared with another flourish of his wand.

Wincing, the Headmistress did as her Deputy commanded. She had to admit that the cool water felt rather good on her burning hands, "Thank you Filius."

Cocking an eyebrow, the small man frowned up at his friend, "Now what brought this on?"

Hooch smirked and teased, "Yeah, someone steal your catnip?"

A deep growl was the only response she got. It was enough.

"I'll be going now."

With that, Rolanda Hooch literally ran out of the Headmistress' tower.

Shaking his head, Flitwick flicked his wand and the basin of water disappeared. Another flick and Minerva's hands were bandaged quite nicely.

Seeing the look of astonishment on his friend's face he smiled and said, "Poppy showed me." Walking over to the doomed punch bag, he produced a complex flourish with his wand and with a flash of orange light, the punch bag was once again hanging from its newly repaired chain.

Wise silver flecked eyes connected with emerald, "Want to talk about it?"

* * *

"I MATED HER!" Minerva wailed as she let loose a fierce whack on the punch bag. "I did the one thing I have never done! I bedded a student!"

"Former student Minerva. Former student." Filius corrected calmly as he sipped from his glass of firewhiskey. Minerva had been kind enough to pour him one before she charged off and started pounding on the punch bag once more.

"Semantics!"

He shook his head, "No. It's not. She is your match."

A loud roar rattled the rafters, "She's fecking married!"

Flitwick took another gulp, wincing as it burned its way into his belly, "Do you honestly believe that she will stay with that idiot?"

Minerva's shoulders sagged as she replied in a defeated voice, "Hermione is a woman of conviction. She took vows with that so-called idiot."

Filius ground his teeth as he replied, "Vows that he never kept! She has grounds for divorce!"

Throwing her hands in the air, Minerva screeched, "So has he thanks to me!"

The small man did not comment on Minerva's unintentional rhyme. Instead he sat back and watched as his friend began to pace back and forth like a caged lioness.

_Lioness._

He remembered what she had said earlier, "Did you say you mated her?"

Minerva stopped and stared at him, "Yes."

For an animagus to admit that meant only one thing. Minerva considered Hermione to be her partner/mate and as such, when they became intimate with each other her first instinct would be to mate.

To procreate.

He remembered back, years ago when he'd first met Minerva and her then partner Rachael. It had been after the fall of Gellert Grindlewald. Minerva and Rachael had been together for several years when they'd decided to try for children. Being an animagus as well as a transfiguationist had allowed Minerva the ability to accomplish the task quite easily.

At least until a tragic splinching had cost Rachael the life of her child.

They'd been at a party at the ministry and had imbibed a wee bit more than they should have of the spirits. Minerva had ended up in the Black Lake and Rachael in a mass of blood and gore at Albus Dumbledore's front door.

By the time Minerva had been fished out of the water, their unborn daughter had died.

A month later Rachael was gone. Never to be heard from again.

Now, here she was. Standing before him looking so distraught and hurt. Telling him she'd mated with Hermione Weasley.

_"Is she pregnant?"_ He mused to himself. What would his dear friend do if Hermione did in fact conceive?

Shaking her head, McGonagall muttered, "Tis moot at this point. She went back to him."

Flitwick tugged on his moustache, "I guess all we can do is wait and see what happens." He glanced over to Minerva's desk where an odd looking flask sat there looking so out of place.

"What is that?"

Minerva could see where he was staring. Her face flushed as she answered in an embarrassed tone, "Polyjuice."

Filius' eyebrows rose as he squeaked, "Whatever for?"

Minerva shook her head, "I..." She paused, clearly flustered. Taking a deep breath, she drew on her legendary courage and looked into the small man's curious eyes.

"I was going to impersonate Lavender Brown and confront Ronald."

Flitwick was flabbergasted. Minerva had never behaved like this before. Another indication of just how much the events of the war had affected them. Had affected her. He could not allow her to continue down the path she was travelling.

"You should not do this."

The Headmistress sighed as she turned to stare out of the wall to ceiling windows in her office, "I know. Why do you think the flask is just sitting there."

The Deputy smiled as he grasped the flask and took it into his possession, "I think I will just take this."

Minerva growled, "Do you not trust me?"

Flitwick stared into stormy green eyes, "Not where Hermione Weasley is concerned." He walked to the door listening as Minerva stomped over the punch bag and took a hearty whack.

"Her name is Granger!"

_**THWACK!**_

_**THWACK!**_

_**THWACK!**_

* * *

"So you're saying you want to try again?" Ron paced back and forth watching his wife with malice glittering in icy blue eyes.

"Don't you?" The chestnut haired witch quietly asked, dreading the look she could see on her husband's face.

Ron stopped and stood straight in the middle of their living room. He cocked his head as if listening to something in his mind. Perhaps she was being sincere. Hermione was many things, but she'd never been untrue to her word.

"Well I guess we can work this out." He finally whispered.

* * *

Rolanda and Pomona entered Filius' office to find the small man staring at the ugliest flask they'd ever laid eyes on.

"What the hell is that ugly thing?" Pomona asked as she stepped over to her husband and placed a kiss on his head.

Rolanda rolled her eye at the expression of affection she witnessed between the two. She always thought they were cute but this was disgustingly sweet. Walking over to the desk, she grabbed the flask. Opening it, she took a deep sniff.

"Gah! That smells like goblin piss!"

Filius pulled away from his wife and smirked, "How would you know what goblin piss smells like?"

Hooch adjusted her eye patch as she replied, "Moody told me."

Picturing the grouchy ex-auror in his mind, Filius couldn't help but remember that his fake eyeball was on the same side as Rolanda's eye patch.

"So why do you have it?" Pomona asked as she settled herself into a chair by the door. She watched as her husband sighed and rubbed at the stubble on his chin.

"I took it from Minerva."

Hooch's remaining eye widened, as Pomona gasped, "Minerva? What? Why?..."

Filius held up a hand stalling his wife's burbling, "She got her hands on some of Lavender Brown's hair."

"How?"

The Charms Professor looked at Rolanda, "Apparently Hermione Weasley found them on her pillow."

"Yikes." Pomona murmured.

Rolanda's face flushed as her anger began to brew. Filius could read the storm building inside Rolanda, "I don't know what she was planning."

"Punching that boy on the nose!" Pomona growled, her dark eyes flashing.

Filius snickered as a picture of his portly wife delivering a punch on Ronald Weasley's nose popped into his head. Scratching his head, the small man said, "I think she was planning on confronting him."

Rolanda growled, "Confronting him my remaining eyeball. She was going to hex his bits!"

Flitwick smirked as an idea began to form, "I think she was trying to find out once and for all whether Ronald and Hermione's marriage was worth saving." He reached for the flask from Rolanda's outstretched hand adding, "An idea that has merit in my opinion."

A mischievious grin creased the small man's face as he asked, "Anyone remember how Lavender Brown carries herself?"

The rest of the afternoon was spent as the three of them tried to imitate the voluptuous woman's walk.

* * *

_-to be continued_


	10. Chapter 10

**AN: Merrily we trudge along...**

**HOUSE OF CARDS**

**Chapter Ten**

As it turned out, all three professors had mastered some Lavender Brown-like traits. So it came to pass that three Lavenders found themselves hiding out in a broom cupboard just down the hall from the Auror office.

"This is ridiculous." Pomona Sprout bitched taking a deep breath. It had taken quite a bit of deep breathing to squeeze her hefty self into the voluptuous form she now wore.

A squeaky voice sounded from behind her,"Stop grousing. At least you know how to walk in heels." For the tenth time in the last half hour, he fell over.

Hooch/Lavender gave both of them the 'fish eye'. "At least you can see out of both eyes for Merlin's sake. I keep walking into door frames!"

"Shut it!" Flitwick/Lavender screeched, "Look we need to decide who goes in there to confront Weasley."

Hooch shook her head in exasperation, "Can you even sound like her? No! He'll think his girl toy's been sucking helium or something."

Pomona/Lavender scratched her nose, "What's helium?"

Frowning, Hooch/Lavender growled, "Never mind. Muggle thing." Sighing she hissed, "I need to be the one to do this." With that she escaped the cupboard before the others could confront her.

"Shite!" Flitwick/Lavender squeaked.

Hearing a snicker behind him, he turned to see his wife in Lavender Brown's body begin to open her blouse, "What are you doing?"

"This could be so kinky. Lavender Brown making out with herself in a broom cupboard just down from the Auror's office. Imagine the headlines. Where's Rita Skeeter when you need her?"

* * *

Hooch/Lavender growled for the umpteenth time as she bumped into yet another door. This one, however, was the one she wanted. Poking her head in, she spied her prey sitting at his desk with his head in his hands. She also noticed that Harry Potter was also sitting at his own desk looking... peeved.

The black haired man glanced up. Piercing green eyes darkened as he took in what appeared to be Lavender Brown standing in the doorway.

"You have some nerve mate." He hissed at his friend, disgust dripping in his voice.

The red haired man looked up. His bloodshot eyes and scruffy, unshaven face caused Hooch/Lavender to gasp. It was that sound that caused both men to look to the door.

"What are you doing here?" Ron asked as he quickly rose from his desk.

Harry Potter growled, "Its bad enough that you're seeing her behind Hermione's back but now you have to bring her to the office?"

Ignoring his friend's rant, Ron grabbed the blonde woman by the bicep and steered her out of the office and into the corridor, "What are you doing here? I told you never to come here. Harry knows something's going on."

Hooch/Lavender grit her teeth as she tried to sound like the real Lavender Brown, "I wanted to see you."

The blue eyed man frowned, "What's wrong with your voice?"

Clearing her throat, the blonde replied, "I'm catching flu."

Pushing her away, the red head grumbled, "Well don't give it to me."

Taking a chance, Hooch/Lavender stepped into the tall man's space, "You don't mind me being close at other times."

Blushing, Ron answered, "That's different." Looking around, he could see there were other aurors in the corridor, "Look, go back to the club, I'll see you later."

Hooch/Lavender was seething, but kept her cool as she asked, "What about Hermione?"

Confused, Ron asked, "What about her?" The expression in his blue eyes didn't seem to match his words.

"Aren't you going to leave her?" Hooch/Lavender tried to sound slightly whiney.

Blue eyes glazed slightly, "Why would I do that?"

Playfully slapping his arm, the blonde woman batted her eyelashes, "For me silly."

Frowning, Ron shook his head, "She's my wife."

As if it were that simple.

Hooch/Lavender was confused, "But why are you seeing me then?" She looked up into Ron's eyes and could see that one eye was dilated fully and the other wasn't. He also appeared to be blinking alot. As if watching a scene play out in his mind.

"You're my girl."

The tall man began to steer her down the corridor towards the elevator.

Hooch didn't know what to say. Obviously there was something horribly wrong with the way this man was thinking. It was almost delusional. Playing one more card, she asked, "Didn't Hermione leave you?"

A growl erupted from the wild eyed man holding her arm, "She won't ever do that again." An almost evil smirk appeared on his face.

Eyes wide, Hooch/Lavender exclaimed, "What did you do to her?"

"Nothing permanent."

* * *

It had been seven weeks since she'd last seen Minerva and Hermione Granger-Weasley, once brains of the golden trio, stood staring into the mirror in the loo.

She almost didn't recognize the creature staring back at her. Her once wild and unruly mane of chestnut lay limp and dull. Hanging on her head like so many stringy strands of baling twine. Her deep chocolate eyes made even darker by the black smudges decorating the area just beneath those once vibrant orbs. Her cheeks were sunken slightly and her skin appeared pale and pasty.

Hands trembled as they gingerly touched the bruised area on the right side of her chin. The area where Ron had struck her. Tears slid down those washed out cheeks as she began to sob.

Nothing had been right since she'd returned. Oh yes, Ron had been gentle with her all of one day before once again changing from Doctor Jekyll into Mister Hyde. This time it had been worse.

He had actually hit her. She couldn't even remember what for.

Listlessly, she sat herself on the closed cover of the toilet, wincing as the pressure irritated already sore and swollen private bits. Ron had been on her every night. Rutting away like some sex crazed bull humping a cow. He still cried like a baby when he came, but that only seemed to make him insanely ram into her even harder.

He didn't even bother with foreplay anymore, just wanking himself erect. Then he would slam his full weight on top of her, pinning his witch to the bed and entering her dry.

Pounding her raw.

The sounds she made were out of pain not pleasure.

Ron didn't care or notice. She was his.

Now the young woman stared down at the results of the muggle pregnancy test. She'd been feeling queasy these last few days and wanted to check out a suspicion. Her period had stopped. It had never been all that regular anyway, but this time was different and she had a feeling...

As the positive result made itself known, the young witch began to sob once more.

What was she going to do now? She was carrying Ron's child.

* * *

Rolanda Hooch entered the darkened club known as "The Coven". It was situated at the end of Diagon Alley, a few shops up from Knockturn Alley. As such, the clientele here was a mish-mash of characters. From people out for a good time to seedy, hooded creatures just trying a have a drink and be left alone.

It smelled of smoke, liquor and as she walked by one shady looking wizard... body odour.

Snorting, the spike haired witch glanced around looking for the owner of the establishment.

Hooch had done a little checking and discovered that after the war, Lavender Brown had travelled to America. While staying with friends, the young witch had won the Powerball Jackpot becoming a millionairess. She'd had the money transferred to an account at Grigotts. The goblins there more than happy to handle her financial affairs.

That didn't explain why the young woman would pursue Ron Weasley. Yes, they'd dated in school, but that ended well before the great battle. So why was she with Weasley now?

Feeling another headache coming on, the Flying Instructor ran a tired hand over her face.

"You look like you could use a drink."

Hooch whirled around to find the object of her search standing directly behind her.

Lavender eyed her former flying teacher. The spike haired witch had been severely injured in the war, eventually loosing her right eye. She now wore an eye patch that the blonde woman thought it made Hooch appear rather rakish.

Sexy even.

Snorting, Rolanda answered, "Yeah, one about the size of Hagrid."

Chuckling, Lavender pointed towards an empty booth in the corner, "Have a seat, I'll grab a bottle."

Hooch complied, all the while never taking her eyes off of the blonde witch. There was something about Brown that appeared different. She seemed... older, beyond her years.

Setting the bottle and a glass in front of Hooch, the owner of the club slid onto the bench opposite the older witch and asked, "So what brings you here?"

Hooch poured herself a tall glass full and replied, "You do."

Blonde eyebrows rose as a hand rose over her heart, "Oh? I'm flattered."

A yellow eye narrowed, "You should be worried."

Frowning, Lavender replied, "Why?"

Swallowing the liquor in one long gulp, Hooch slammed the glass down and leaned in so quickly that Lavender shrank back a bit, "Why are you running around with Ronald Weasley?"

Hooch watched as the witch across from her gasped. Her mouth dropped open and she began to sputter, "What are you talking about?"

Smirking, Hooch spat, "C'mon gurly. I know you're sleeping with him."

Enraged, the blonde witch ground her teeth, **"I AM NOT!"** She looked around to see if anyone was listening. Thankfully her customers were acting like their usual uncaring selves. Facing Hooch once again, she stated, "I am not sleeping with Ronald Weasley. He invited me to his flat once to talk."

She reached out and poured another drink into Hooch's glass causing one silver eyebrow to rise as the blonde witch proceeded to take a large gulp from the glass. Wiping her lips, Lavender continued, "Talking to Ron damn near translated to rape. He had me on his bed and was tearing at my clothes and pulling my hair out. All the while he was moaning Hermione's name!"

Hooch's mouth fell open. _WTF?_

Taking in Hooch's expression, Lavender continued, "He comes in here for hours on end. He sits in a booth and just stares. Sometimes he talks to himself. Sometimes he builds castles out of playing cards." She pulled back her hair to reveal a long scar running down the side of her face, just in front of her ear, "The war messed a lot of people up. Greyback left me with this little reminder." She pointed at Hooch's eye, "You have your's. Everyone is completely screwed up."

Thinking of Minerva, Hooch shook her nead, "You can say that again."

Lavender reached for the glass again, "Word is that no one escaped the effects of the war. Even McGonagall."

Hooch growled, "What have you heard?"

Taking a sip, the blonde placed the glass back down and replied, "Only that she's been acting like an enraged banshee."

Hooch grabbed her glass before Lavender drank any more of her drink, "So you're saying that you don't have any interest in Weasley?"

Lavender shook her head, "Not with the way that family is fucked up. Hell no. Besides..." She paused and looked deeply into Hooch's remaining eye, "I'd be more inclined to chase Hermione rather than Ron these days."

Blinking, Hooch grinned at this revelation, "Oh my!"

Sadly, Lavender whispered, "Although with the way poor Hermione is being treated, it's a wonder that she hasn't lost her mind along with her husband."

That brought Hooch back from her musings in a hurry, "So you think he's crazy?"

Shrugging, the pretty blonde stared out into space for a moment, "I was wounded, but lying in the Great Hall. I was up against a wall but still conscious. After Hermione blasted Greyback off of me, I managed to get inside and under cover somewhat." She frowned as she remembered, "When Bellatrix hexed Charlie Weasley, I saw it. I also saw Ginny deflect the curse that was going to hit Ron. He didn't get it full on, but he got a piece of it."

Hooch took a deep breath, more than a little freaked out at this revelation, "And look what happened to Charlie."

Nodding Lavender added, "The same thing that's happening to Ron."

Hooch scratched her head, "So there's no telling what he's been doing to Hermione is there?"

Shaking her head, Lavender answered, "It can't be good."

* * *

Hermione looked up as a handsome dark eyed, dark haired man entered the examining room, "Hello. I'm Aedin McGregor. I'll be examining you today."

Then young woman had chosen a muggle hospital to confirm her pregnancy. The witch had travelled all the way to Glasgow. Hence her doctor's thick Scottish brogue.

Quietly she endured his poking and prodding. She flinched only slightly when he withdrew blood from a vein in her arm. The same arm that bore her scar. She didn't put a glamour over it thinking the doctor would dismiss it as teenaged angst. Instead, she started when the kind man leaned in and quietly whispered, "Which Deatheater?"

Brown eyes blinked up at him. Eyes that had seen so much death. Eyes that reflected a personal agony. Ancient eyes.

Smiling, he stood and with a flick of his wrist, a wand slid down his sleeve and into his hand.

"Whut?" Hermione felt like she was going to faint.

"Easy m'dear. Tis gonna be fine." He waved his wand while whispering a diagnostic spell. A colourful swirl appeared just above Hermione's head.

"Ye have magic. It makes diagnosing the muggle way a wee bit difficult."

Hearing an accent so familiar caused the young woman to throw her head back and laugh.

And laugh.

And laugh.

Doctor McGregor eyed the witch before him with a raised eyebrow, "Are ye finished?"

Wiping her eyes, Hermione smiled, "Just acknowledging the irony."

Doctor McGregor cocked his head, "Irony?"

Hermione nodded a sad expression on her face, "That accent means a great deal to me."

McGregor nodded, "Aye. I imagine it does. Ye are Hermione Granger are ye not?"

Mystified, the young woman just stared at him.

Chuckling, Aedin said, "Ye are an English witch. Where else would ye have gone ta exceptin' Hogwarts. Where would ye have heard the brogue exceptin' for Minerva McGonagall?"

Wide brown eyes stared, "You KNOW her?"

Doctor McGregor pulled out his billfold and flipped through some photos. Pulling one out he showed it to Hermione. "I found it in me Da's things after he passed. She was the one that got away. Seems he had a penchant for attractin' witches 'cause after Minerva, he met me mum. Turns out she was a witch too." He chuckled at the look in Hermione's eyes.

For her part, Hermione was speechless. Here in front of her was a photo of a young Minerva and a man that was apparently her doctor's father, "What was his name?"

Taking back the picture, the tall man turned it over showing the faded writing, "Dougal."

"Small world huh?" Hermione muttered as she looked down at her tightly clasped hands.

_"This poor witch has been through so much,"_ he mused as he replaced the photo in his billfold and shoved the whole thing back into his pocket. Looking up at the graph still floating above his patient's head, he asked, "Do ya want to know who sired yer bairn?"

Frowning, dark eyes flashed, "I already know the answer. It was my husband. Ronald Bilious Fucking Weasley!"

Doctor McGregor's eyebrows rose in surprise, "Well okay then." He knew when it was prudent to leave well enough alone. Even if she was mistaken.

* * *

To say that Ronald was surprised when Hermione told him that he was going to be a father was an understatement. The fact that she had chosen to tell him in front of his parents had been her saving grace.

Had they been at the flat there was no telling how he would've reacted. After all, he knew he was not the child's father. The spell had left Charlie sterile and surely it had done the same to him.

Surely.

He quietly sipped his tea as Molly gushed happily over his wife. It made his mum happy. She hadn't been for such a long time. If it made her happy that was okay with him.

For now.

Blue eyes stared holes into the back of Hermione's head as he wondered who really fathered the child. When he found out the wizard's name, he would personally strangle him.

Then his wife.

* * *

_-to be continued._


	11. Chapter 11

**AN: Thank y'all for the many inquiries into the status of "Family Ties". Currently the story is on the back burner while I deal with this angsty little cuss. I have enough drama going on in my life right now to fuel this story that I don't dare even try to write "Ties" in this state of mind. Just hang on y'all and let me get through this.**

**HOUSE OF CARDS**

**Chapter 11**

For the third straight morning, Hermione found herself in the loo bent over the toilet retching so hard that the blood vessels in her eyes had burst. Her tortured heaving sounds having roused her husband from his repose. The red haired man stood in the doorway watching the morning sickness take its toll on his wife. It had been that way for the last 3 months.

The nerve under his left eye began twitching again as he asked, "Alright?"

The sound of the toilet flushing was his only answer as he watched the chestnut haired witch slowly stagger to the sink. Turning on the taps, Hermione muttered, "Only your child could make me this sick."

Blue eyes instantly blazed, "Whut is that s'posed to mean?" The twitching increased causing Ron to unconsciously snap his head to the left several times.

Tired brown eyes stared at him. Watching, searching for something recognizable.

Ron took a step closer to his wife, only stopping when he saw her take a step back. Her body had become even more curvy with the progression of her pregnancy. Her breasts were larger, fuller. Her hips rounder. Her belly was prominently showing her baby bump. He wanted to help her and at the same time strangle her for... this.

"I've got some stuff to do after work so I'll be late." He grumbled walking away.

"Give my best to Lavender."

Her words caused him to stop and turn around. Fists clenched her sneered, "I'll do that." Quicker than she thought possible, he was back in the loo and in her face. She felt strong fingers grasping her throat as he leaned down and plastered his lips against her own.

After a long moment, he looked into her eyes.

Her dark, inscrutable eyes.

Eyes that once upon a time looked at him with such warmth but now only reflected a blankness back at him. Eye twitching, he growled, "Don't you ever forget who's wife you are."

As he stomped away, Hermione felt tears stream down her cheeks as she wiped her mouth and whispered, "How can I forget?" She looked into the mirror to see a set of hand prints darkening the skin at her neck.

Again.

* * *

Lavender Brown wondered for the thousandth time just what the hell she was doing. Here she was, sitting in the most uncomfortable chair as she waited for Ron to come out of the examining room. The red haired man had anxiously asked her to accompany him to see a healer. He wouldn't tell her why, just that he wanted her with him.

Shaking her head, she wondered again, "What the hell am I doing here?" This time the words were said outloud.

"Me wonders too." Came a gravely voice from a few feet away.

The blonde heard boots thudding across the floor towards her. Looking up, she smiled as she realized that Rolanda Hooch was standing in front of her.

"Heya."

A yellow eye twinkled, "Heya back."

"Wha'cha doin' here?"

The spike haired witch grinned and pointed at her new eyepatch, "Gettin' a check up and a new patch."

Lavander grinned as she noticed that Hooch's new patch was dark blue with a silver hawk embroidered in the center, "Very sporty."

A broad smile turned up Hooch's lips, "Ya think?" The spike haired witch glanced around, "Whut are you doin' here?"

The busty blonde sighed and replied with a frown, "Wondering the same thing myself." She noticed Hooch's puzzled expression and added, "Ron asked me to come with him."

Scratching her head, Ro asked, "I thought you said you were just friends."

"We are."

"Then why..." She trailed off as Lavender raised her hand and stated, "Everyone needs a friend. Even crazed Weasleys."

Chuckling, Hooch noted, "There seems to be alot of 'em running around these days."

At that moment Ron Weasley walked into the waiting room. He was tucking in his shirt and didn't immediately notice Hooch. "Can we get a drink?"

Lavender frowned at the forlorn expression clouding blue eyes, "What's wrong?"

Still not noticing Hooch, the tall man sighed, "I was right after all."

Lavender grit her teeth. Ron was seemingly talking to himself yet again, "Ron?"

Head twitching, the red haired man stared off into space for a moment, "It's not mine." He blinked a tear away and turned to face Lavender, "I can't do this. It's not mine."

"What's not your's?"

A dark, ominous expression made its way across his face. That was when he noticed Hooch, "Oh hello Madam Hooch."

Hooch nodded silently. She was seeing first hand just how damaged Ronald Weasley really was.

Lavender grasped Ron's large hand, "What isn't your's?"

Growling, He hissed, "Hermione. She was never mine. She was his!" With that he wrenched his hand away from the startled woman and stormed out of the waiting room.

Lavender shook her head, "What the... What does he mean Hermione was never his?"

At that moment, two nurses emerged from the examining room that Ron had just left. They were chattering to each other but loud enough for Hooch and Lavender to hear. Not noticing that they had an audience, they continued with their gossip.

"Those poor poor Weasleys."

"So much tragedy."

"First Fred, then Charlie, now Ronald... how do you tell your mum that you've been rendered sterile?"

"Especially now."

The two women continued down the corridor leaving two flabergasted witches staring at each other.

"Oh my God!" Lavender gasped, "Ron is not the father of Hermione's baby?"

A single golden eye narrowed instantly causing Lavender to silence herself. Pointing a single finger at the younger woman, Hooch hissed, "You cannot tell a soul."

Frightened blue eyes widened as the blonde thought of something, "What is he going to do to Hermione? I never thought she'd cheat on him."

A powerful hand cupped Lavender's chin and forced those same wide blue eyes to focus on a single glaring yellow one, "She did not cheat on him. They were separated remember?"

Nodding, Lavender Brown frowned, "You know something."

Hooch stood staring at her for a long moment before she stated, "Maybe. I need to get back to the school." She started towards the door before turning and saying, "You need to tell Hermione about this."

* * *

It was more than a month before Lavender managed to get by Ronald to see Hermione. During the previous weeks, the blond woman had kept Ron's mind occupied with other things. She'd owled him at all hours, sent him notes... asked him to run needless errands. All under the guise of her "I need you Won-Won" persona.

In reality, she was trying to keep him away from Hermione so that he wouldn't find time to harm her. Hence all of her requests came to him while he was home with his wife.

Hermione on the other hand, wanted to bitch slap Lavender Brown so bad she could taste it.

Finally one Saturday afternoon when Ron was off with Harry, the blonde witch tentatively knocked on the door to Ron and Hermione's flat. Several minutes later the door opened.

Lavender's mouth fell open, "Wow you really are showing."

Dark eyes went from suspicious squint to surprise. A protective hand rose to cover her belly.

Lavender shook her head, "No. I'm not here to hurt you, I want to talk."

Giving a resigned sigh, Hermione stepped back, "I guess this is long overdue."

* * *

Hermione stared wide eyed at her so-called nemesis. Her mouth had dropped open and a strangled gasp had escaped soft lips. Two small trembling hands protectively wrapped around her baby bump.

Lavender sat across from the stricken witch silently watching as the truth of what she had just said to the woman in front of her sunk in. Tired blue eyes stared into wild chocolate.

"Why didn't he tell me himself?"

Shaking her head, Lavender replied, "This is Ron we're talking about. He may have been a Gryfindor but deep down he's a fucking Slytherin."

That was the moment that Ronald Bilious Weasley decided to make an entrance...

* * *

Minerva McGonagall stood up on the Astronomy Tower staring down at Hagrid's hut. She was absolutely certain that where she was standing was the exact spot where Hermione had been the night Umbridge and her goons had hexed her. Absently she rubbed at her chest remembering the burning pain she had felt as the four stunners blasted through her body.

Every now and then Minerva would feel a twinge. An ache deep in her chest where the magic had burned through her flesh.

Now was one of those times.

Closing her eyes for a moment, she reflected on how much had happened since that night. It almost felt like a lifetime had passed when in fact in had only been a few short years. Somehow she had made it through the resulting carnage. A survivor for the third time. A little checking had revealed that she and she alone was the only three time survivor left alive.

"Survivor." She muttered with a disgusted snort.

Running a hand over the rough stone of the wall that kept the students from toppling over the side, the Headmistress noticed that there was a slight tremor shaking her hand. The cold hardness of the stone contrasting with the warmth and softness of her skin.

Contrast.

It seemed to the older witch that contrast was what made up her life theses days.

That and liberal amounts of alcohol. The latter causing a knawing feeling in her stomach, hands that tended to shake, and bouts of temper. Frowning her annoyance at the weakness of her body, she allowed her gaze to travel to the forbidden forest. It wasn't the trees that she was seeing, it was the past.

A slight breeze caused a shiver to run through her bones as she sighed. This really wasn't how she had envisioned her life would turn out. No, not like this.

She knew that since the last battle her sanity had been sorely tested. Sometimes she wondered if she hadn't already gone off the deep end.

A sad smile turned up her lips at the thought.

Her legendary control. That dominion she wielded over her emotions was gone. The ability to swallow down any and all jests, jokes, jibes, pokes, prods and critique was finished. She responded to each and every one. Usually in a negative fashion, with a raised wand first and questions after.

And she didn't know how to stop.

How many times had she gone after Sybil or Rolanda? She was so ashamed of her actions, so angry at herself, at...

...what?

_Albus?_ Surely.

_Voldemort?_ Naturally.

_The Ministry?_ Who wasn't?

_Filius, Poppy, Pomona?_ Why did she snap at them? They were her friends.

_Hermione._

The suddeness of the thought caused the older witch to pause all movement.

"Hermione..." A sad whisper slipped between thin lips.

The one person in the world who seemed able to diffuse her rage with a single glance. The one woman who seemed able to understand her moods. The one witch who's magic had washed over her like a soothing balm. It had settled her.

Completed her.

One tiny tear escaped a gleaming emerald eye to travel down a face weary with the burden she carried. Over an elegantly carved cheek, sunken in a bit due to dozens of missed meals.

The one love that walked away.

An anguished roar sounded throughout the grounds as the Headmistress released her heart broken agony.

* * *

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Blazing blue eyes pierced Lavender Brown to her very soul.

The buxom blonde witch stood up straight as she looked into those maddened eyes and stated, "Enlightening your wife."

Hermione stared at her husband, her chocolate eyes searing with an accusing intensity, "Why didn't you tell me?" This bastard that she called husband had allowed her to go through all those goddamn painful tests for nothing. It HAD been him all along that was the problem.

Cocking his head, the red haired man replied, "Tell you what?"

Stamping her foot, Lavender screeched, "Stop being such an arse and man up!"

Hermione felt dizzy. She felt like she was witnessing some twisted muggle daytime drama. Only this drama was her life. God, how did she let it get so out of control? Weakly, she sat on the sofa and watched as a woman whom she thought was her enemy defended her against a man she thought was her loving husband.

"Man up you say?" Ron growled as he stepped near the woman he thought was his "girl". Pointing at Hermione he added, "I think I'm being pretty manly by accepting another man's child don't ya think?" With that he drew his wand.

* * *

George Weasley opened the door to the kitchen of the burrow. He never apparated inside these days.

His mother couldn't take the shock.

"Anyone home?" He queried in a steady voice.

"In here." Came Molly's voice floating in from the living room.

George followed the sound of his mother's voice and entered the living room to find Arthur on his knees before his wife. The older wizard was bandaging his mum's knees.

Again.

"Mum?" George muttered sadly.

"Yes dear?" Molly answered in a voice that sounded so normal that it frightened him.

"Why don't you wear the kneepads I got for you?" The remaining twin stared down at the bloody mess that was Molly Weasley's knees. Anguish showing clearly on his handsome face.

Smiling, Molly's blue eyes glazed over for a moment, "Don't you worry about me dear." With that, she sat back as Arthur spelled new bandages securely to her battered knees.

George looked at his father and noticed tears rolling down the elder man's face.

* * *

Hermione pulled herself to her feet and surveyed the carnage that WAS her living room. Smouldering piles of furniture lay here and there. Wallpaper had peeled itself off the walls in places. A window was broken.

Lavender Brown lay at her feet unconscious and bleeding.

Ronald laying moaning in pain somewhere in the kitchen.

It was madness.

One minute she and the blonde witch were talking and the next Ronald was there calling her a whore and screaming obsenities at Lavender. Then...

Hexes.

All sorts. Blazing every colour of the rainbow... including green. Evil, sickly green.

Avada Kadavra from the end of Ron's wand towards her. Towards his own wife, all the while screaming how much he loved her. Luckily a blocking hex had sent the deadly curse into nothingness.

Ron Weasley's kind of love was deadly and Hermione realized that if she and her unborn child had any chance of surviving to live a normal life, then she had to get out of there. Plus, she had to get Lavender out as well.

Kneeling down, a single thought crossed her mind as she touched the bleeding woman's shoulder and wrapped a hand around her belly,_ "If Ronald didn't father my child then who did?"_ She thought back to her single night with Minerva McGonagall and disappeared with a loud crack.

The lurid pink of a tracking spell came whizzing out of the kitchen just as Hermione apparated with Lavender Brown.

* * *

_-to be continued_

_AN: To T.L.W. _


End file.
